נפתלי פרימור, שירתי

Things Have A Heart

No way for me to feel the heart beat of the ground,
Of the rock,
Of the glass,
Of passing time.
Of the object that don't resemble any of me.
No similarity to anything I consider to be related.
But they are.
Things are changing over time.
They're born, their existence is clearly visible
They will pass away,
They will change to a different form.
Thinks have a heart.
Some people don't.

April 23, 2011