The Story of My Heart
By John Herlihy

If I told you the story of my tender heart,
I simply would not know where to start.
Life is departure; there is always a beginning,
A choir boy covered in freckles, prone to sinning.
A strict Catholic upbringing, saddled with guilt,
I prayed nightly before climbing under the quilt.
A shy little fellow waiting impatiently to get big,
Sitting lonesome on the front porch eating a fig.
Gazing as if hypnotized at the far distant horizon,
Seeking the unknown no matter what the season.

I was scared stiff of people and their ways, that’s for sure,
Everyone seemingly wanting something, and much more.
I hardly knew what I had within myself that I might give,
Perhaps I might make a blunder that no one would forgive.
I learned to keep quiet, tucked away neatly within myself,
Inner rhythms allowed me to sit contentedly on my shelf.
With little fear of solitude, I could quietly be on my own,
I always kept myself occupied and never felt truly alone.
I took up my red stylus and wetted the tip with my tongue,
Relating depths of feelings from my heart’s bottom rung.

We live our lives in parts, mere fractions of the whole;
We live our lives in seasons, adding weather to the soul.
Infancy brings awakening, joy, and spontaneous life,
Boyhood speaks of playfulness, fun, a lack of strife.
Adolescence remembers turmoil, confusion, change;
Young adulthood leads us out into the open range.
Full maturity may flourish like flowers in full bloom;
All the colors of the rainbow fill windows in life’s room.
Old age slips quietly on its own into the winter season,
A gift unwrapped, lived, then laid aside with no reason.

One thing bears mention in this limited space and time;
Life’s ups and downs appear without reason or rhyme.
My needs have filled a long list and taken up much space;
Feelings of loss grew as the years moved forward apace .
I have nurtured personal fulfillment as life passed by;
I have enjoyed a few quiet moments taken on the sly.
When all is said and done, we must finally let go,
Give up all we treasured, earned thru life’s hoe.
In the end what do I need, if I have filled my heart;
In turning the last page, I will have done my part.

I have now told you the story of my tender heart;
I have given away what I thought I could never part.
If life means departure, it must also mean return;
My candle’s wick has fizzled down, to ashes burned.
Crossing the bridge, climbing hills, choosing the fork,
The fork in the road leading down the way of the stork.
I relied on nature to guide me forward and fill my soul,
Mountains, rivers, trees, and more all set me on a roll.
The glorious world enlarged me, my spirit increased;
I will listen to the beating of my heart until deceased.