he calls a spade a spade
she calls a spade a heart
she finds his poems
buried under snowbank
extracts them
absorbs words
tucks them into warm coat pocket
for poetry is indeed art
he calls a spade a spade
she calls a spade a heart
by mary ann blinkhorn
mypenandme 
what a lovely little poem..:-)
Thanks, my friend. 🙂
Oh WOW, I like this!!
Entitled, HEART and written by my heart. Thanks so much. 🙂
Lovely. A wonderfully poignant (and compressed) sketch of a relationship. K .
I enjoyed writing this one. 🙂
Yes, seems like that. K>
he calls a spade a spade
she calls a spade a heart
– beautiful
Thanks so much. 🙂
Reblogged this on The Three G's.
That’s very nice. Thank you. 🙂
Your April posts collectively read like April in all its colour and emotion and poetry made so tangible! Wonderful to read this.
That’s very kind. Thank you.