Hearts

This is a careful walk I take
across your landscape.
Though invited and called,
I stand at the gate.

I pause.

The wreckage comes to meet me.
It winds around my ankles
like an alley cat after a
bloody battle.

I step,
one, two,
then I wait.

Are you ready for my company?
Would you rather steep in your own
misery?

You have been shattered.
Your shards of glass will certainly
cut me.

Perhaps I can carry a few of these pieces.
I will tend to your hearts,
as you did mine.

Rest.

©M.Scofield July 7, 2008