May 1, 2010 Harold Tor

My Heart

‘Twas warm and pounding the day
It was smashed into
A thousand shimmerings
Of past joys and days
Of shared tears
Such litterings
I have to pick
And mend
And learn
That nothing is certain
In this world of
Ever-swirling whirlpools
Of conceit and deceit
Am a flame teetering
On the last of melted wax.

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