The Heart of He

His heart is not an instrument
for my supple fingers to strum
sweet lips are not a sacrament
of divine grace which to succumb.

His voice cannot predict the end
nor foretell fortunate events
his soul is not without its sin
but he will forever repent.


But this I know to be the man
the truth of him, the heart of he
hard-working with solid strong hands
whose caresses can make me weep.


My Viking king protecting me
fearless and true, eternally.


©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Photo by John Peters on Unsplash

23 Comments on “The Heart of He

  1. I love your poem; made me think of my own Viking king. BUT it’s rather humorous to have such a virile poem followed by the picture of the man sleeping on the sofa. I saw the photo before recognizing it was an ad. It gave me a chuckle. My hubby took a fall and had to be seen in the ER. Nothing’s broken, but he hurts and sits or lies down a lot. He’s still my Viking hero, but looks more like the photo than the one that should be standing proudly at the helm of his ship.

    Liked by 1 person

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