Friday, September 16, 2011

careless ~ written January 14, 2011

 A beaded purse
tattered from
holding
the shattered, appears
on snowy path
and you ask how
 it came to be
The little
purse, worn
from keeping
such things
spills
in your palm, revealing
shiny, hard
a thousand
heart-shards
You walk a while, then
purse in warm palm
slips through
fingers so entrusted
        Oh!
looses soul-splinters
into
snow



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