Sunday, March 23, 2014

hollow

A kind word from a stranger brings on tears
The beauty of flowing water does the same
as do thoughts of the past and thoughts of the future.
There is no joy to be found in the song of the wren or the chickadee,
no joy in the snowdrop's bloom.
Empty, hollow to the core, devoid of all feeling,
my heart breaks grievously, slowly, painfully,
leaving a fragile shell ready to shatter at the slightest tremor

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