A late bird, your song flutters, heart to heart.
I see notes hanging from telephone wires,
then falling softly into the deep grass.
And I lay there, staring out of this world,
into another’s sky, where perhaps you might
be laying, and I ask, who are you?
Over and over, and we drift,
making people out of wishes,
filling skies with cherry blossom
and fancy silken hopes, misplacing spilt dreams,
then throwing a coat down to hide them,
not quite sure who will step on
into the future, and who will sink
out of sight, below that rising heaven.
I gave this a 7 because I feel the writer changed his mind during the poem. Maybe he didn't, but if he didn't, that could be worse. Then I would have given a lower mark. If I am wrong, then I am just wrong and the meaning escapes me. In that case, I did the right thing after all. GW62
this is just simply beautiful...gorgeous images spring to mind....great work
Wistful and beautiful. My goldfinches are still here in KY and many others.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This a fine composition indeed.......10