There’s a bank somewhere that we give almost everything we got.
We give our hearts, our souls, our love.
Daily, hourly, weekly; I don’t care – we keep making deposits.
Whether we like it or not. It’s all just part of living.
The Donor Bank
I gave my heart.
I gave my blood.
Presented arms, and
did some good.
Pulled some teeth,
proffered an eye,
offered tears, and
heaved a sigh.
Held my tongue,
but lent an ear,
Gave them the finger,
bared my rear.
Released my fear.
Lost my face.
Let go my hurts,
Sent my embrace.
That bank may
Operate in black;
But what you’ve put in…
You might never get back.
Randy Mazie
The Writer's Village 