Parrot Of Ice Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Owl of emeralds sits on the piano
She plays with one candle lit
I listen like a ghost
Moonlight like a Paris street
We are the ambivalent lovers
Transit with a magician’s hat
The stage has no permanence

What is romance if not color
The mountains and the fields
Azaleas know what love is
The sea grasps war and peace
Wood floors with elven gifts
Her voice the wind of the North Sea
Library of deep mossy dreams

Home like a Persian chess set
Maroon pillows on a brass bed
Blue wallpaper with orchids
Tenderness behind the lilac vase
Morning sun fills the room
Degas smiles on the quiet easel
The verge of creation kisses my lips

She’s an artist on a parrot of ice