Thursday, July 18, 2013

Song Bird

It sings melodiously
high up on the tree, its voice
fills the air with nostalgia.
Memories from yesterdays
when we thought we knew it all
and frolicked to harmonies
played out by hundreds of them.
The sounds of orchestral bliss,
that followed us to the ground
where we would lie on the grass 
dreaming of what they could do
with those calls of emotion.
Then they would fly away fast,
in mass movement together
in an extraordinary 
escape from the whistler
who thought they might understand.
Perhaps they did; flew away
just to tell the other birds
what the girl  wanted to say:
that she loved their songs always,
and wanted them just to stay.
But then the sun would go down,
and we would run home to eat
forgetting about the one
who stayed to sing a lonesome
melody for the girl who 
understood what true love was:
it was you and me in dreams
from the future or the past.
We knew the birds and the bees
would lead us to each other 
someday, sending us love songs.
That's what I imagine now,
wIth the solitary bird
high up on it's lonely perch,
just waiting for its love mate.
Like I waited for you
even before I knew that
you were calling for me too.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Forever Young

The song lingers 
in my memory,
fresh like the flowers you planted:
raw and remorseful
from all we never got to say,
all we never got to do.
John Denver said it well,
though I doubt he meant
On a bike,
not a jet plane.
How your eyes lit up
like candles after a storm
when you would ride;
not a care in the world.
Smiling eyes
like Kizzy's:
your faithful companion.
That's how I choose to 
remember you:
carefree and innocent,
beautifull and young.