Raise your hand if you had to look this one up then couldn’t think of rhymes!
I’ve stretched my heart;
Hung it to dry.
In the fields where your bones laid;
Where the rivers ran awry.
I visit it sometimes
To collect the crumbling pieces
Littering the red mud ground.
It never seems enough, the breaking never ceases.
Yet my heart remains solid and bold
Hooked steadfast to the tenter.
The wind calls me here with a siren song;
It moves me with slow seduction, it brings me to center.
Go check out the posts at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch, we have some excellent ones this week!