My Heart

It is my house

Near the Phone-booth

On the tree-lined street

That leads to a large Park.

There, children play.

My heart always invites me

To my house

As though it owns that house.

Does it live in it with me,

I had once asked,

Though it has never promised

To take me to the Park,

In which children play.

“Why?”

I asked

“You are not a toddler any more,

You are a fully grown man.”

Reminded me my heart

No longer that of a child.