Triada Samaras: A Poem "Broken'

I think this is mostly done after a long round of edits but we shall see.....

Broken

Tossed cans lie crumpled in the dust bin,
colors shaded by warm sunlight
that glides to the other side of the house
for a better view.

Faux gold poinsettias
sparkle faintly,
their tarnished glamour clinging
to gold dust circling them as they pose
on bare white windowsills.

The sun begins to fall,
its rays catching a clock face 
ticking toward a time that never comes,
around a circle of hours,
vaguely remembering the years—
one after another.

Measuring moments
to the melancholic rhythm of my heart,
encased in a stiffened cage,
a body imprisoned,
warping round a beat
that shields it gently.

An empty pen tries to write a poem in my lap.
It starts:
The sun might mourn your lies,
but trust,
the sun, the house, the window—
they will never mend my broken heart.

c. Triada Samaras 12/2024