You find it on the hearth, a tiny thing,
still a flutter beneath the calcified outer.
The warmth inside has faded to a simple prickle
that decreases every moment.
How did it get there, who cast it aside
to continue on their life without it,
hoping to never feel the pain and uncertainty that love can bring,
while forgetting how their view of everything
becomes just that little bit brighter for it?
You cradle it, unwanted heart,
hold it close to your own so it can share your heat,
build up a rhythm to restore its strength.
You guide it until it can beat on its own
and then let it make its way
back to the world
where it can find that reason to glow again.
Treeshallow Musings 