If my Heart were a Harp

if my heart were a harp,
it would be out of tune.
a playful breeze my tease it,
pulling its strings gently.

but no breeze,
nor touch,
nor word has yet to make it sing.

if my heart were a harp,
it would have a few strings broken.
a carressing hand may tinker-
and toy.

but no breeze,
nor touch,
not word has yet to mend its broken strings.

i keep waiting.
waiting.
waiting-
for a musican to come and fix it.
to play it beautifully-
and gracefully.

i keep waiting.
waiting.
waiting-
for a muscian to play it loveingly.
a soft, melidious song even the angels cannot conduct.
one of healing, of love, of happiness.
but as i keep waiting.
waiting.
and waiting,
i find myself even more and more alone.

if my heart were a harp,
it would be rusted and old.
some have tried to make it glow again,
with a spit shine here and there.

but no breeze,
nor touch,
nor word have yet to make it glow again.

i keep waiting.
waiting.
waiting,
for a musican to come and rescue it.
for him to oil,
and nurture my harp, and bring it back to life.

for him to fix its broken strings,
and like picasso with a paintbrush,
stroke music and belonging into my soul.

to make every note,
every single note-
ring true with love and acceptance of me.
for him to embrace my heart,
and make me feel safe again.

i keep waiting.
waiting.
waiting,
because someday i know he’ll come

If my Heart were a Harp

Corneilia

Joined December 2012

  • Artwork Comments 1

Artwork Comments

  • Roger Sampson
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