Bird
Here I sit
in this healing place
wanting to speak
wanting to hear
my tongue tied in
impatient knots
my breath held.
Silence the little boy in you
the little girl in me
come to regret
our immaturity
the many silent glances
in and out
and in I go to read
your stoic lips.
The bird sings sweetly
on the windowsill
it whispers a secret
into my ear
Can you hear it?
Can you be?
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I love your poem. Thank you for creating it. I haven't written poetry in a long time, but your remind me how healing it can be.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Jane