I thought see
sorrow,grief and wailing dole.
Everything I break brings thoughts of you
And when I write, I wonder what you’d think
No-one else will criticise my work
And into the quicksands I seem to sink
I burned ten pans and broke a dozen plates
I even broke a vase in the cafe
I think of phrases subtle,erudite
Then lose them in the maelstrom of the day
I will learn to live with broken heart
As humans are not born with such spare parts
How my heart sings 