Heart aching

The heart in me
Beats its drums
Like an African tribe
Calling for war or celebration
She brings both into
My poor heart

The heart in me
Beaten into submission to
Her eyes smiling at me
Reflected into my eyes
Like the morning sun into the lake
My heart is not lake

The heart in me
Stops at the corners of
My mouth touching hers and objects
Choking for air
Like a flying fish flew too far
Disoriented my poor

January 25, 2018

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
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