When you first put your arms around me,
I could feel the warmth of you.
I could trace the beat of your heart.
When your lips brushed mine
And you smiled,
I was hypnotized, mesmerised.
I had no idea, what I'd done wrong,
When you turned and left,
Lost, in the throng.
It was only then, I realised,
That your thin, cold razor,
Had cut the strings of my heart,
And stolen it.
What value could it have been to you??
Then I learned that you keep hearts,
As trophies.
I should tell you,
That while you were busy,
I secreted your heart,
In my pocket.
It now sits on a plinth,
In my display cabinet.
Would you like to meet?
On a mist dressed bridge,
Early one morning?
Where, like errant governments,
We can make an exchange?? .........
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
owain Glyn
