With an empty eye

The crab which spreads its claws beneath the skin

Can be removed or burned away with ice.

And we can live  with spaces deep  within

For with our love,new life can be enticed.

 

Yet where’s the plumber who repairs the heart;

who stops the leaks and mends the broken pump?

We are not metal in our many parts.

And, with love, a stony heart may grow quite plump.

 

A newer heart may benefit the young.

The hopes of future joy can break the strain.

The loves around to whom we happy clung,

May bring us consolation once again.

 

Yet  later we accept that we must die

I  face this future with an empty eye.

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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