A single note,
moon-haunting-velvet,
and she wanted
to hold it,
protect it,
purr-soft cup it
in quiet fingers,
but then
there was
another note
and another
and another
and they melted into bird voices
and feather-floated
up, up,
too high for sound
and she reached too far
and she was gone...
death by
too much eternal beauty
in one glass-bright skysong.
(17 February 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem