Threefold Heart

 

Cross on the holy bible on a wooden table

With weary eyes I softly close,  
Where even tears have felt their throes.  
The book of memories, sealed with grace,  
I gathered my heart in one still place.  

Your name, it whispers through the air,  
A sound too tender, too raw to bear.  
This trembling pulse I can't outsmart—  
Is it not love that stirs the heart?

Post a Comment

2 Comments