I hand you my heart in a box.

wrapped in paper, tissues and string.

I've seen you open it up quite a lot.

Just looking!

I heard you exclaim.

What might you do with this gift?

Treasure or give it away?

It is yours now, so do as you wish.

What is the point anyway?

For it's tattered, wounded and torn.

Neglected and broken in two.

What do I need it for? I don't use it.

Seems more fitting to leave it with you.

I hand you my trust in a box.

And wonder aloud why I should.

seems harder to do every time.

But I take all the bad with the good.

Here I am hoping that you learn to love.

Someone, anyone, even you.

To lose all hope is a curse.

No one knows that better than you.

Written by; Phil G. Inman Sr.

April 14th 2010