The Glass Heart

By Beverly Greene

NOTE: This poem is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without Beverly Greene's expressed and written consent.

Another piece of glass breaks
and another passes as the ones before.
In the morning, I'll clean up
the mess the glass heart left.
Careful with the steps,
easy not to bleed anymore.

The glass tears stain the floor
in a picturesque manner.
In some kind of modern art,
the heart becomes another pain
in the window of the world.

Why is the glass only a faded white?
You would think that a heart
would have some purples
and blues and yellows and blacks.
The marks of past pains
and old injuries don't fade.

The candle blows out
and the wind shakes the windows.
The darkness shows itself
where light had before played,
dancing through the pieces
of my shattered heart.

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� 1999 Beverly Greene owns all rights to this original poem.

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