When the feelings return bashfully,
I do come to the conclusion,
This heart must be recyclable,
Built of simple glass and plastic,
It keeps getting broken you see,
Shattered underfoot,
Lobbed over seawalls,
And left beside dog waste bins,
Yet painfully and surely,
It gets rebuilt each time,
Melted down and pulped,
Reconstituted so many times,
More than one can count,
It’s pleasant to love anew,
To feel the thump in my chest,
Yet the temptation remains of course,
To leave it in the trash pile,
Next time.
WorldofHarley 