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HEART It speaks the story of us, our nooks, our ways, and our world. A vital organ breathing life into heaving lungs and hungry minds. Beat The door is forever opened. Beat We walk forward holding hands. Beat Together as a unit, as a clan. Our blood grows thick with scraped knees, birthday cake and bee stings. Our bones strengthened by our mothers kiss and our fathers pride. With each year gone, we notice new lines – A crack Depicting an inevitable, but unimaginable end. And still it beats strong and we stand tall, Marching on relentless, into the battle that is our life. “This will always be your home, you know that.” Beat We take a moment. Beat Cut grass, laughter. Beat A daisy chain linked by more than green sinew. Each December, eggnog and cinnamon entice us with nostalgic arms, And we revel in the warmth. “Bless her, she still makes it look so nice” we say, Ignoring the hairs we find in the gravy. Beat A pair of knitted socks. Beat The mandatory Christmas row. Beat An indigestion that sits low in the stomach, it feels like guilt. It keeps the story of us, Long after our nooks, our ways, and our world. A coat of fresh paint and new curtains bring a different type of clan. Their excited screams shatter the next-door neighbors Sunday afternoon; our pets lie quietly in the ground. Beat A quick drive past for old times sake.

Beat Tea with too much sugar just how we used to have it. Beat Look there, if you squint it still looks the same.

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