Thursday, August 6, 2009

red hot heart

for my redheaded friend, I wish:
the ashes be knocked from
the stove of her red hot heart

so I can scoop it up with tender palms,
bath it in lavender oils, and pillow
the welts that will surely scar at
the heart of her red hot heart

and tell her (if I may soothe her
red hot hurt) that love will again:
warm but not burn,
evolve and return,
die and live and die
but still yearn
for her big, brave, young, sweet,
loved red hot heart.

1 comment:

  1. I absolutely love this poem. You did a great job, hun. And yes, we all just have to believe that love will come :)


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