I tried to write a poem for you on a single feather
Wasn’t long and I was running out of space
And so I grabbed another, but there’s no amount of letters
That, compared to you in person, could be more than just a trace

Another feather taken, but my pen was running empty
So a pack of seven dozen I procured
But they were insufficient when explaining how you gently
Took my hand and tried to lead me from the darkness I endured

Soon I had a million words upon a thousand feathers
Even then, I knew it wasn’t good enough
For putting you in words – it was to try to paint the weather
Or to photograph eternity or make an angel blush

Finally out of ink and out of feathers I retired
Not because I thought I had no other words
I stopped because the feathers, wearing words of such desire
Grew a heart, and sang a song, and flew away into the heavens like a bird


4 thoughts on “Bird

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