Sunday, 5 June 2011

When the Black bird calls

Morning comes
and he sleeps
brow creased
he dreams
of
all things passed
all things to come

Morning comes
and the black bird
outside the window
calls
to the new dawn as
the sun comes
up

Morning comes
and the sound of horns
beep,
to whom
impatient already
no one on the roads yet
or is there

Morning comes
and I touch his face
flinches slightly
turns to face me
the one I love
my forever
I snuggle closer

No comments:

Post a Comment