Where is my heart?
In my chest, I presume.
Squeezed between the ribs that hold me.
Thudding heavily.
I left my heart
on the street yesterday.
I dropped a piece
when I gave a dime
to a little girl in need.
She’s looking for her mother,
who’s nowhere to be seen.
The day before,
I gave a piece
to the old man
who needed help
to cross the street.
He lives alone,
with three cats
and no one else.
He carries a picture
of his late wife—
he says I have her smile.
I gave a piece to the cashier
who takes my morning coffee order,
a piece of change that makes her day,
a piece of my heart shared today.
A little bit of my heart,
here and there,
beats steadily for someone else.