All in a never-ending spin, the heart throbs on;
Its’ shiny outer coat metallic, strong.
But deep inside, there is a different hue.
For, in its icy depths, it’s cold and blue.
Is it now fixed? Has passion passed it by?
Could it still blush before a pleasing eye?
Are those thin spirals ready to accept
Some saving blood which from some lover crept?
Or would the shock of love be just too great?
And could advances change its frozen state?
Perhaps there is no happy ending here,
But, shattered, blasted, it might disappear.
©Ruth Twyman Lockyer February 2014
For the illustration that goes with this poem, please email.