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.