Untold

My heart is the earth that holds untold
Time's secrets of deeds that slumber.
Warm palms pressed against cold glass,
Amid thoughts made into crowns of sand;
Reminiscences saturate them and I weep.
Well into the night of fire carries purpose
Painful childhood, scratched and surfaced.
Married to forgetting yet betrayal is vital,
Unsettling the settled mind content in simplicity.

© August 2005