The Tin Man searches through mists of time,
His joints ache from abuse of the long road,
His vision obscured by tears of passion.
Far ahead, his love waits a lonely shore,
Her heart suffocates in unending sand,
Her mind cries silently with deep longing.
No oil spared, even for meager relief,
No comfort to succor his loneliness,
Each step echoes with grief and aching pain.
Dark fell long ago this mystical night,
The path too, is but a ghost of memory,
Midnight comes, destiny riding the hour.
Like a mindless beast, he will not give up,
Hope provides a single shining beacon,
The armor of her love protects his heart.
The clock strikes twelve as his foot meets the shore,
With his caress, the sand flees from her soul.
Mark this, nothing stands in the way of love.
Dec 15, 1992