My Heart
. You hold it in your hand,
And touch it.
Your touch makes it warm.
You like how it feels,
So,
You decide to keep it.
And hold it in your hand
But,
As time goes by,
It seems to get in your way.
You want your hands free.
So,
You put it on the shelf,
Out of sight,
And forget about it.
Until,
One day.
You find your hands are empty,
And you remember it.
So,
You take it from the shelf,
Needing its’ warmth again.
And,
You touch it,
And feel it turn to ice.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006
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