St Valentine's Home for Wayward Hearts

At the end of a road

In a town that has every name

There sits a red brick edifice

Filled with those who've danced with flame

Burned they are

But not by fire

They're scorched on the inside

Hearts having touched a live wire

So here they huddle

Both together and all alone

Young old and in between

This sort of thing isn't outgrown

Some just got here

Others have been awhile

Some days only a few arrive

While on others there is a line in single file

Most harbor hope

All would like to be elsewhere

And we do for them what we can

With proper feeding and care

This is but a mending waystation

Where we help repair the broken parts

With the old peeling sign out front spelling out

St. Valentine's Home for Wayward Hearts