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Tattered Hearts
October 7, 2010
Sometimes when I’m all alone
I feel a hand against my face,
Like nothing I have ever known
I close my eyes and see your face
Soon, the feeling fades away
And I am left with just a trace
I wish the hand would stop, would stay
Gently moving o’er my face
Then I realize what I felt
Was just a scrap of tattered lace
And the musky scent I smelt
Was just a moldy pillowcase
© Emma J., Tuck, GA
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