The human heart like a window sill
May be often touched but thought of only
When we are silent and still.
And so it’s left abandoned and dirty,
Sleeve-worn in faded neglect,
Chipped and bowed from heavy leaning
It waits in silent regret.
The stories it could tell if only asked
Will fade into the stains.
With no guardian
To wonder, watch , or wait
The sill that’s broken and beaten
May crumble to ruin
In vain.
YOU ARE READING
Baring My Soul (poetry)
PoetryThis is a collection of poems that I've written over the years, some of them are free verse and some rhyme. The inspiration for the poems varies, but most center around some aspect of love, whether it be the joy and the pain of young love or the lov...
