bird song - a poem
walls contain
a bottled prison
yearning for
spirits within
when a house
is just place
the cork cracks open
flies free
looking for
unsoiled carpet
wine spills
wherever
space will allow
i have searched
all over
for your stain
you are not here my love
you are not here
love traps time
makes him stand still
desire is
misplaced hope
a broken camera
we have both traveled
so far from
if i am home at last
where are you
you are not here my love
you are not here
voice: the breath's tooth.
thought: the brain's bone.
birdsong: an extension of the beak.
speech: the antler of the mind.
~ robert bringhurst ~
if you enjoyed this poem
please check out my other work:
aging
alchemy
creation
hard candy
listen
liquid
mysteries of the art world
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STOPThis is lovely and touching. <3
thank you Uni. I try to write my heart.