Rib Cage

 

 

 

Your heart, imprisoned in its rib cage,

 

 

 

still sings its morning carols at the break of the dawn every day.

 

 

 

The break of the dawn that was delivered from the beats of your agile, graceful heart.

 

 

 

The dawn which tries to flirt with your fresh youthful heart, 

 

 

 

whenever your heart smiles and leaps with joy.

 

 

 

The leaping heart that is leaping behind the bars of its captivity,

 

 

 

and is calling out the fading hope which has faded into the depths of your years.

 

 

 

Your youthful heart which its captivity could not lessen the pulse of its enchanting tones.

 

 

 

The enchanting melodies which were buried under the years of drought and thirsty.

 

 

 

The years of drought when the joy of their dreams withered on their dried branches.

 

 

 

The dry branches that used to bear the flowers of patience and forgiveness.

 

 

 

The flowers of patience that have always been dancing and swaying with the breath of your sighs in your lonely nights.

 

 

 

Your cold nights that have always made your heart ache with agony and the excruciating pains of parting.

 

 

 

The pains of parting which are boiling mad between the supple ribs of your rib cage.

 

 

 

Your rib cage that contains your slain dreams.

 

 

 

The slain dreams that still sing the morning carols at the break of the dawn every day.