This heart of mine’s fragile like a pane
of glass. What you tore apart is still in
my hands, crushed like petals of coral-
I am the keeper of secrets, of thoughts
and things that senseless trees can not
hear. In the receding hours of twilight,
I am the hush that follows a prayer.
Perhaps there is a hidden agenda in the
fragility of life, like a wan light through
sleet and rain. To be driven by madness
and still be sane.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Posted on ‘Sunday Mini-Challenge’ @ Real Toads
and posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United