Heart

The wings of a bird

Each plume so dark

Beat swiftly like rhythmed words,

Like the beating of my heart

The blush of a rose,

So vibrant and red

The hue the heart shows,

The heart not yet dead

The eyes of your lover

So alluring and deep

Cringe when you suffer,

From your heart’s painful beat

The breath of the morning

The bittersweet dawn

Sets me to weeping

For I’ll soon be gone

An hourglass waning

Losing it’s sand

Just like the time I have remaining,

Before I am dead.