My dreams follow Chordeiles minor south-
His winter’s flight that promises me no return.
My lips hold tight a frown upon my mouth,
My ears deaf to the sad bird songs for which I yearn.
Those singing birds with the way they sink;
Their lyrical beaks into the thoughts my heart does think
Thoughts like startled starlings which fester in anxious flight,
An already crippled movement stopped between a painful heartbeat,
Cleverly suspended amongst the webs of words I write
In raw emotions-open and honest nothing discreet.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
No comments:
Post a Comment