Like ice melting into water,
snow coming from freeze barter,
the heart pumps question marks,
figuring it may take flame sparks.
What is a heart in feeling,
there is so much to its dealing?

People surround hearts in mass,
so many drools take parts to task.
Geometrically speaking,
hearts grow strong, some weaken.
Where's my hearts place,
in the mirror of thy face?

As I measure my fellow man,
this old heart makes plan.
It plans to be good and strong,
live a life rightgeous and long.
Plans don't always work out,
some take seed grow another sprout.

In the fears of all existing,
life certainly grows old twisting.
What good is a strong ticker,
when the mind starts to flicker?
In figuring hearts in connection,
none will ever meet perfection.

Not mine,
not yours trying,
we do the best we can,
just part of being human.
To figure a heart,
maybe a great start,
but in the end,
will a heart be friend?

G