A Grieving Heart is a Door Ajar,
Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #162 Come join us! Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows... ~William Shakespeare Flight is but a haunted memory so I don’t need wings to travel far regret can be a boarded window yet a broken door that stands ajar heartache is a house that creeks and moves like an old woman’s legs in winter tend to do we hold our memories and peer at grief believing in ghosts others may never see yet still they leave and appear like finger prints on glass drinking from cups and saucers we will never have they follow and lead they hold our hand they make us stumble yet help us stand for yesterday was a lost child with tangled hair today is a black bird with a lonesome stare tonight is the moon’s reflection everywhere I go and tomorrow a baby I shall nestle close the reminders enter from near and far broken and bent like a door ajar.
