Autumn sky is company,
In leaf filled tornados I am free.
In all these hues,
It's the blues I see.
Your voice is a rustle in the wind,
a rumour, a murmur,
like the hole in my heart,
the blood that escapes my veins.
I long for a home,
a bird forever on the wing,
I seek the will to sing.
These Windows are my prison.
I force the tree's spiteful limbs
Into witches fingers.
Tree fingers,
I pray for their conjuring,
There are no offerings.
I am futile,
I am spun sugar,
brittle,
a lone ingredient,
that which has no place in the mouth of your existence.
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Comments3
Umm...your poetry is nothing less than inspirational. Your work leaves me truly speechless. It's as if I it draws me close enough to feel while leaving me distant enough to have to think. Thank you!!
Thank you very much for reading. Thank you very much for such a lovely comment, I truly appreciate your words 🙂
The visuals your words bring to life in this poem are stunning. kudos to you sir.
Thank you kindly Mr Rooster
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