It’s a good thing
she’s got work to do.
The work she does
is her hearts glue.
When she feels her heart
about to break,
all she does
is start to rake.
When she knows
It’s going to shatter,
just mix the paint
and climb the ladder.
But in those dark moments
as she lays in bed,
she makes her lists,
she counts her sheep
and before she sleeps’
she weeps.
Poems by Ken 