Old boy blue of many years Who never shed his fear of tears, Refused to share his life with friends, And now's too late to try again. For many years now, he's been blue, And stopped believing dreams, it's true, And can't look forward one more day Without that touch of pain. So far inside his mind he walks; They're gone--no wife, no soothing talks, And faces really loved by him now gone beyond that hill Remain just teasing memories that come when night is still. In places ghosts and shadows lurk; The little school, the country church, He strains to find what he has lost, But learns that he must count the cost. The kite, with love, his mother bought; Not good enough--'twas all for naught. And little toy trucks, he now agrees, Were broke so further hate could feed. And now with no one left, he sees There's no where left for him to flee. He broke and broke; thought he was smart, Breaking every lover's heart, And so he died all through inside, While through it all he never cried.