One heart, perfect and whole,
Which in the night a thief has stole.
Clumsy fingers drop it to the ground,
A piece chips off without a sound.
Still intact and worth the taking,
It gets passed around, each time a piece breaking.
Hours spent gluing it back together,
Hoping this time the repairs would last forever.
But then comes the day when the shards are too small,
Despite the best efforts it won't hold at all.
Broken hearts then are ground into dust,
Blowing away in the wind, the color of rust.
· Sat Sep 07, 2013 @ 05:13am · 0 Comments