The heart where once
love resided fell too cold.
Now the flesh turns
an uneasy grey beneath
a thin layer of dusty frost.
When touched,
the fingertips stick and the cold bites.
Few dared to warm
the space with their hands
and now neglect has my heart forgot.
There's an uncared for path.
An overrun piece of forest
nearly hidden in the brush
that leads to a cave.
There's a cool breeze
that staves away my curiosity.
A comment of yours turned into a poem. So lyrical and so true.