She did a two-step on my heart,
my poor heart broke and fell apart.
She kept dancing; it shattered more,
I swept my broken heart up off the floor.
I gathered up the thousand pieces,
my furrowed brow turned into creases.
She kept on dancing: I just sagged.
My splintered heart stuffed in a bag.
I flung the sack across my back.
My empty chest was cold and black.
I wandered near and wandered far,
my loveless heart wished upon a star.
I carried my heart to be repaired,
the tinker shook his head then stared.
"A broken heart is not a pot," he said.
My face turned white, then turned red.
My heart was cold in my little bag.
All my hopes began to flag.
Lo! In the distance, I heard a song.
I listened deep, listened long.
I followed the sound of the lovely tune,
about love gone 'round the moon.
With my sack in hand I ran a course,
up then down, to find song's source.
A maiden fair, sang a song that soothed.
I felt my heart's sharp edges smooth.
I saw the singing, winsome lass,
my heart warmed now, no longer glass.
I felt my heart turn from death to life,
the song had healed my heart from strife.
She smiled and took me by the hand.
My heard felt new, my heart felt grand.
She opened my sack, lifted my heart.
She put it back where it had it's start.
I blushed and had to take a chance.
I sighed, "I hope you don't know how to dance."

© 2014 ajwrites57
A Long
❤ ❤ ❤

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