Slow to start
That's my heart
It knows nothing
Of what's about
To break it apart
Sure thing!
Hearts are not
Things!
They beat
To the beat
Of love
And repeat
Same mistakes
They hang around
With wrong "inmates"
Those who stage
Fights against
Every thought
Every heat
Every pulse
That which meets
Life with grace
They want it all
After all
Everything's at stake
The prison of love
Imprisons those hearts
Who stop to start
Anew again
They fight
With might
The wrong fight
To win the battle
To slow and settle
Down here or there
With despair
Yet life is short
For that sort
Of infant's dream
That which seems
Rosy and cosey
Ends despite
The struggle
With light
The darkest
Of nights
Without a fight
Leaving the sight
Of wrong and right
To a land of Hope
East and West
And that's the rest
Of the story of
The childish heart