Petes Poetry

Do you have one?

I'm not sure if it's made of wood
I'm not sure if it's made of tin.
I'd find it if I could
but somehow it's buried within.

I'm not a liar
I'm not sure who broke it
for there is no fire
so I cannot stoke it.

Yet it melts like ice
slow change with each drop.
the ultimate sacrifice.
this beating pound of flesh won't stop.

I'm not sure if it's there
I'm not sure if I use it too much.
But a heart that can care
Is what I want you to touch.

Pete.
Copyright (C) Peter Riddoch




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