Constance La France Poet Verse

Pressed To My Heart

 Sorrow,
you moan my name day and night
and seek out my anguish, grief, and misery
making me melancholy and mournful . . .
because of you I pick up a pen
and woebegone words . . .  drip, drip, drip, drip-
then, leave me until you call me back 
to embrace me, so I may suffer again- 
and like a lover, I hold you
pressed to my heart . . . 

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April 13, 2020 (Edit)

Poetry/Verse/pressed to my heart
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1243-569-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France


Submitted to Strand Pick 11 Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand

Honorable Mention

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Susan Ashley April 13, 2020 at 8:52 PM Dear Heart, there is such tender beauty in your melancholy so intimately expressed. Your artistry is haunting, difficult to forget, leaving a moving and lasting impression. Warmest wishes.. ~Susan Constance La France April 14, 2020 at 10:04 AM Susan, thank you for that lovely comment, appreciate _Constance