Progress?

Of all the progress of the age
And wonders of technology
Yet there is naught that can assuage
A broken-hearted memory

They may send man up into space
And view the earth from outer spheres
But there is naught that can erase
The pain bled out in silent tears

For though the centuries may roll
And man invents the latest ‘new’
Still there is naught to bring to whole
A heart that lies broken in two

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin