His heart

Crossing my path…

TheFeatheredSleep

His heart

Was poorly woven

The hard basket fiber, unwilling to smoothly coil

He should have covered his heart when the boughs were green and supple

Then he was too cow, too young to know, the necessity of armor

Her face and the impossible smallness of her hands

Bewitching in their ignorance of the portent they held

Her shape, as if molded from river clay, set in sunlight

How could he realize then

The clamoring of his emotions

Drowning out the part where sense lay

Still and sirene

His heart

Was poorly woven

He did not regret

This fact

View original post

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 )

w

Connecting to %s