The heart has no draw-string
But spills constantly
Into life’s moments
Molding memory
Time is too precious
To clench; thus we dare
To love though its losses
Are grueling to bear
Into empty moments
We fling our trust
Before its extolments
Embellish time's dust
Darling, the night
Soon eclipses Today
I’ll spill my heart
To taste come-then-what-may
…for the heart has no draw-string
And I cannot keep
Music of moments
From vexing its deep
© Janet Martin
Sometimes I wish my heart had a bit more of a drawstring.
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:) me. too.
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