It’s the heart of the matter

In these cold hearted days.

To a dear heart missed

Or a sweet heart gaze.

Where kind hearts weep at many dark tales,

And strong hearts wrestle with balancing scales.

Loud hammers pound as bad hearts curse,

Yet terrible words a love heart can nurse.

While broken hearts lie strewn where they fell,

Warm hearted folks collect oil in deep wells.

But silent hearts utter no word or sound

And dead hearts leave their clothes hanging round.

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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