My heart is a four chambered box

My heart is a four chambered box Where I keep snippets of my childhood Locked and hidden Each memory is a pearl Beaded into a necklace of longing Every person I met and everyone I loved Left me a trinket, a coin, a chain That now lie somewhere in that box. There is no lock,…

Twenty-three

for my friends, who are forever young

On Sundays

On quiet Sunday afternoons sitting by myself, cold tea at hand, A thousand brooding thoughts Rekindling old embers Of love long forgotten, lost in the blurry haze of time My old heart sails the shore at the edge of memory. What will those words sound like if I speak them now, I wonder Will my…