And there are moments when there is nothing left to give.
The empty souls can do nothing now but hold on with their finger tips.
With nothing to spark the energy they must daily muster,
There is nothing, left at all.
And so they slip into the void for an hour or so.
Trying to recollect scraps of hope and bits of energy,
Only to keep going.
That is all they want sometimes,
To manage to get on by.
Sometimes it is all we can manage.
And a heartful of failures
And slams of doors in hopeful faces,
Drain, drain what little they have left.
But they hold feeble heads as high as their necks will permit
And they walk the walk,
When their feet don't know how to continue to take a step.

Rita Shay

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaves-fall-off-trees/