He Holds My Heart

He holds my heartin his hands,to tend,or torture,as he sees fit. A baby,precious and small,holds it right,wrappedin tiny curled fingers. A toddlertugs 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,breaksContinue reading “He Holds My Heart”