His heart


Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.

TheFeatheredSleep

His heart

Was poorly woven

The hard basket fiber, unwilling to smoothly coil

He should have covered his heart when the boughs were green and supple

Then he was too cow, too young to know, the necessity of armor

Her face and the impossible smallness of her hands

Bewitching in their ignorance of the portent they held

Her shape, as if molded from river clay, set in sunlight

How could he realize then

The clamoring of his emotions

Drowning out the part where sense lay

Still and sirene

His heart

Was poorly woven

He did not regret

This fact

View original post