My poor heart,
Broke a million times,
Splintered into whispers,
Scattered in the winds of time.

Each piece, a memory,
Each shard, a cry,
And though I gather them gently,
Some slip by.

I try to rebuild,
Hands weary, eyes blurred,
But the shape has changed
A puzzle deferred.

With every attempt,
A piece stays behind,
Lost to the...