He Holds My Heart

He holds my heart
in his hands,
to tend,
or torture,
as he sees fit.

A baby,
precious and small,
holds it right,
in tiny curled fingers.

A toddler
tugs on its’ strings,
with laughter,
and joy,
and running escapes.

A child,
makes it bursts,
with hugs and kisses,
cuddles and prayers,
and ‘I love you, mommy.’

A teen,
tears out a piece,
with hurtful words,
and solitude,
while walking away.

A young adult,
breaks it a little more
with goodbyes,
and disappearances,
and unspeakable things.

A man
rebuilds it,
with long lost hugs,
and ‘I’m sorry.’

A father
holding his son,
a grandchild,
who has yet to know
he holds my heart.

A continuous cycle,
sometimes good,
from time to time, painful,
but always and forever
he holds my heart.

© Leslie C Dobson

If you liked this poem, you can find additional ones on the poetry page of Leslie’s website.

Published by Leslie Dobson

Leslie has been writing since she was a young child, first with poetry and short stories and later with song lyrics, young adult stories and inspirational sayings. She is a multi-genre author and her blogs and books come when and where the Spirit leads.

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