The Heart's Abode

The heart
Of my home
Beats quietly, the niche
Slotted in between piled
Sheets and kitchen
Cupboards.  And all the
Words are there I
Studied and
Bore - the
Books I have not opened for the
Longest time
But here I am, the
Weak evening sun
Paleing the page and
All my sagacity
Spills and fades
Yet the heart beats here still
Purposeful, just
Hemmed-in by
People and the
Comings and goings of
The road.  This is
My abode.
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