A heart was stolen
In broad daylight, it was snatched
By the thief of hearts.
He stole more than mine
They’re hidden in his closet
Behind latticed doors.
He’s sly, this cold thief
The heart was offered for free.
Didn’t have to steal.
But steal it he did
And the others on the shelf
Awaiting freedom.
By Deborah E. Dayen
Picture from Google Images
