Thatched

Sometimes I run out of love.
It isn't very different from running out of sugar or flour,
as a matter of lack.

A heart that is built from love
can't really run out of love
the way the sky cannot run out of space.
But not all hearts are made of
the strength of love, like
the way that not all buildings are constructed from bricks.
Some hearts are made of straw,
always sucking up whatever treats it can find;
Full only when filling...
the way a painted sky ends at the edge of its page.


But hey, we can remodel our homes
the way we reinvent our hearts,
realizing that we are the source of the warmth;
not the walls or the roof or the floor. 
Could the bricks ever be soft enough to understand this truth?

Well, it doesn't really matter how we get there, now does it? I'll see you at the housewarming and I'll bring a plate of sweets.