My Heart (a poem)

It is not my heart breaking,
In the dawn of a stormy mourn,
Beneath gentle willows weeping,
Lilies laid, solemn and forlorn.

My heart is not breaking,
It is no longer mine to tend.

Carried away in the streaming,
Lifes river stills for no one,
All named precious are taken,
Fate won't entrust in us for long.

My heart is not breaking,
I have nothing here to mend.

Trees shush in summer breezes,
Night's wing cloaks a sherbet sky,
Sleep leaves the shores of reason,
And untwines my weary mind.

My heart is not breaking,
Grief left a hole instead.

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