Scribbles

I want to scribble again after a period of dryness for words. Now that my daughter is eight months old, I can hear the call of ideas shouting inside my head again. Although I have not put my way of expressing a thought into practice, I’m willing to give it another shot. With a bit of luck, I wish to be enthused once more.

Friday, December 12, 2003

the custodian of hearts

she looks after to a lot of hearts
each is left by someone
who sees her as a custodian

she gives each heart a name
and carefully puts it in a hallowed box for safe keeping
so when the owner of each heart comes back
she can return it, still intact.

every heart signifies a person’s life with a twist
some people speculate and wonder
what joy brings her in keeping so many hearts?

little do they know that
keeping so many hearts drains her
as she is pressured and forced to protect these hearts
leaving no room for her to tend her own

she then settles to pretending,
compelling herself that this is destiny

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