Seven is for my broken heart (I.P)

It was late and early in the year when I had said my last prayer
And the days wound along like infinite choruses of psalm
And as the glorious daze of late December chased January’s first dawn
We lay entangled as the day we had been born
I look back now and recount;
One, one was for the dawn
Two, two for the forlorn morn
Three for the sinners, even the beginners
Four, for the broken and unbroken parts
Five is for the rain that drizzled lightly
Six, six is for the buried secrets
And seven, for all the stars in the sky
That shone, when all was lost and none was won.