HEART AND SOUL

The heart is just a muscle

Pumping blood–the soul

Is something else. I tussle

With the thought, that whole

Or part, what’s called the heart,

May be more than a breath

Of life, a longing unto death.

WINDOW

The eye, a window to the soul,

Reveals what I conceal in part

While others see the whole

I cannot see: the heart

I neither feel nor see

Behind the window of my eye.

IN A PANDEMIC

Dropping Like Flies

A fly lives but a day

Or two, then falls away,

While we endure for years,

Some more, some less, in tears,

In laughter, till, like the fly,

We die.