We keep finding hearts

We keep finding hearts- 
tiny golden plastic ones left 
over from Epiphany craft,

not adhesive yet
clinging wherever they are scattered
like stars on the floorboards,

the craft table, the living room
to welcome our guests.
Nothing scatters so readily

yet sticks so fervently, as though
some symbiosis depended upon
their placement on wood

and I must spend
constant delicate moments prising
these hearts from the floor, keeping

the sweeping from the drain, ensuring
they never hurt, never choke, 
are not lost in the scattering.