A Heart For The Taking Poem by Peter Strugnell

It's four in the morning, and the air is still,
deep in my chest, there's an empty space to fill,
I stare at the bulb, in my vacant room,
I hoping that you'll, arrive very, very soon.

I'm not cut out, for a life alone,
tonight I've never felt, so on my own,
so if you want, to be by my side,
I'm lost in life, and I need a guide.

I so much want to say, 'this is it'!
I need some help, to make the pieces fit,
I'm the mess no-one, wants to clear up,
I'm the saucer, with no matching cup.

When i come home, there's no-one there,
the rooms so empty, the space to share,
I've love to give, it seems a dreadful waste,
Like an orphaned child, waiting to be placed.

So if you see me, walking down the street,
even if it's unlikely, that we're ever meet,
you should know, my open arms are aching,
and that my heart, is there for the taking.