Inn

This heart when young
was but a balloon
filled with air and 
all sorts of frivolity 
fresh flowers and flavors 
a very welcome place 
but now it’s fallen 
more of an anchor 
and an afterthought than 
an opportunity its copper
glaze has guiltily turned 
and taken on tarnish
tainted tinted and tasteless 
its windows shuttered and 
doors locked keeping out 
or rather keeping in
the only one found 
to be resident there