In the Heart
Some day, when skies turns grey,
Its veil torn and seems thrust,
To the dust we walk and play;
And through our hearts we look,
At every happy face turned pale.
It’s when our hearts sags, too,
And hurts rummages our feelings.
We seek for a quite hill, pensive
On a secret couch dangled upon,
The bliss of solitude;
And that inward eye,
Goes miles to the blues to surf
The secret trance and winds of visions.
How scattered are the golden treasures,
Billowing by, and that all has been dreams?
The heart sinks more heavier than a stone,
As all we see is but again it seems...
And how few, how fast they fade;
How they creep, yet our hearts our minds;
Too deep they sink to the pitiless deep.
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Comments about this poem (In the Heart by GIDEON BORE )
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