My heart is not a poem, you may come
And sit awhile apart from the drowsy day
And measure in silence the sweet sum
Of all I am to him in him when I pray
My heart is not a poem, do not read
My lips for syllables sly in sentences
That ever mask our inherent need
It's too naked for pride and pretences.
My heart is not a poem, I'm a man
Simple in form and capable only of love
When you come, bring not a plan
But come to give freedom to this dove.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2009