The heart

The fire burned in the empty room
The chamber it could not warm
No appreciative welcome home
A comfort all in vain
Tempest tormented window panes
Light could not shine through
Opened doors hid not it's sound
It echoed through the halls
The walls heard the abuse
but could not make a sound
Time extinguished all







And can a heart so trodden down
lift it's beat once more to bound
or must it always bare in shame
the mark of one who would disdain
to hear it beat a strong refrain
and once more quicken to the flame?
What curse can such a magic hold
to crush and cause life to with hold?
And once the heart is marked for death
what an empty place is the breast.

Sheila Perez
1/2010