Heartbeats and sickles

Simple ingredients that just feel right,
are what my blosoming heart actually seeks.


A few rays of shine,
from the dawning sun;
A cup full of passion
from a heart that must burn
in love...

Some hope from the core
of a nestling's soul
or
speed from 'neath the hooves
of a maturing foal

Or maybe...
Just heartbeats that cannot
be bought or sold
though sickles showered
with sawdust may tell stories untold.


Note: I had written this poem during my teen years and it is one of my most treasured pieces of writng. Unfortunately, my little diary of poems was lost during the more overwhelming times of of my life and this is all I can remember, but I am glad I remember at all.