I want to tell you
that your heart will always belong
a little bit,
to the first your heart loved.
But it grows back.
Sometimes to heal whatever wound you may have
you must find a piece of yourself
that you have always been unwilling to give.
Hide this piece in
the arms of a tree.
Wrap it in soft moonlight,
lovingly press it to the rough bark
and tell this little secret of your heart-
About your dreams of children,
about your endeavors of joy,
about the freedom found in a sharpened pencils and smooth keyboard keys.
Hide it in a nook.
Never go back to look.
thank you.
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