The Wandering Heart - Poem by Brian Foshee
She handed me her heart.
She said be careful with it love,
nurture it, caress it and keep it close.
Shelter it from the rain above.
I held that heart in both hands,
but soon life brought its trouble.
I can hold it in one hand and have a hand free.
I’m still holding it, but now I can do double.
Life kept piling the problems on.
I worked hard on them with the hand that was free.
Troubles piling up faster, I’ll just put it down,
I’ll keep a good eye on it, you’ll see.
Difficulties piled to the left,
work piled so high I can’t stop.
This heart makes a good paper weight.
I can keep it right here on top.
I was so busy with all this work,
I didn’t see her come in to the store.
She found her heart she had trusted me with,
it was right there on the floor.
She picked it up and walked right out.
I didn’t know she even came to visit.
Didn’t I have that heart here somewhere?
I’m looking for it now, where is it?
Standing on the street,
out in the pouring rain,
with her exposed heart, just looking,
for someone to take away the pain.
What is she doing out there, I think.
She is getting soaking wet.
Let me just finish this one last thing,
then an umbrella, for her, ill get.
Along came a taxi
looking for a fare.
Need a lift Miss?
What’s that you got there?
It’s my heart, you see.
I gave it to a man.
Now it’s available.
You can have it, sure you can.
I’ll keep it here in my cab
for my fares to see.
Maybe someone will like it,
and buy it from me.
Suddenly I realized
what I had just lost.
I took up every other task,
and I see what it cost.
I lost it all,
everything I ever wanted to be.
All for what gain?
There is none that I can see.
So, sad, depressed, and destroyed I stood by the street.
No one to talk to, nowhere to go.
I’ll never find that heart now.
I have nothing to show.
You need a lift? Going somewhere?
Asked the driver with a knowing nod.
So I poured into the cab and there was her heart!
It’s a miracle, I said to him! I know, said God.
Comments about The Wandering Heart by Brian Foshee
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe