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The Songbird The Songbird
by Nikos Laios
2014-08-20 09:50:32
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The Songbird

img_0004_400In
Our
Withered
Ways,in
Our
Withered
Days.

Black
Claws
Of Leafless
Trees
Stretched
Out clawing
At The sun.

Blue
Streaks
Of heaven
Dripping
On the
Rocky
Mountain
Tops.

As wisps
Of cold
Sunlight
Settled on
The snow.

Red lips
Pursed;
I can
Hear the
Songbird
Sing.

The
Harking
Of the
Spring;
Of a
Happy
Tender
Gentle
Thing.

The
Fig trees
Swaying
In the breeze,
The chestnuts
Falling on our
Knees; under
This green and
Aromatic sun.

The seasons
Turned,the
Songbird
Sings.

This stark
And tender
Gentle thing;
My little
Songbird
Of the
Spring.

*************************************************************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

************************************************************************* 

Nikos Laios, North Sydney, Australia

 


  
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