The Heart

A found a heart, it was not mine

It grew in nature, obscured by twine

It hung from its tiny, horizontal vine

Its beauty was magnificent, very, very fine


It was truly un-incumbered, it swung free in the air

Somehow I wished that all hearts were there

Carefree and hopeful, and sweet, quite fair

Never having to seek others;  content, not aware


For this heart was of nature, raised by the sun

It never depended on me to have fun

Its life was to create pollen, to be observed by everyone

When the sun settled, its day was done


So pleasant, so happy just there to be seen

Its pink shape, coming out of the green

For it was a plant, completely serene

Not human, and never, could it ever, be mean.


Barbara Blackcinder



About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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