My heart
Some would say frozen
The poverty of emotion
But they are crazy
‘Though the memory’s hazy
It’s there
It appears in gusts
Big waves and strong thrusts
But with arms adamantly folded
With all that is holy
It’s hidden

My heart
Beats like a saint
Or maybe a sinner
At home it’s a winner
Tied by a rope
To the Earth where I live
In permanent Winter?

Not quite.

10 thoughts

Would you like to leave a comment?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.