By Lisa Huddleston

 

Three blind mice

All pretty nice

 

One mouse is the oldest

And she thinks she’s the boldest

 

The next mouse feels unseen

That no one hears her dreams

 

The third mouse is on a quest

Back to a cozy nest

 

But all three are the same

Thick glasses in thick frames

 

Each thinks she sees the best

But none can pass the test

 

Three blind mice

See how they run

 

Skitter and scatter

Each one’s truth matters

But none is the truly true one

By Lisa Huddleston

Where do the pieces of a broken heart go?

Do they swim through arteries or evaporate through pores?

One way is kept out of sight but lives forever within

The other is expelled and breathed into the vacant sky

Although I choose to let them go, some jagged shards remain

Piercing my lungs and leaving me gasping for air