Bird poem n.3

The chirp comes halfway between my dreams and yours

And this time you’re not there for me to ask

What did you dream

What did I dream

To confirm that what we dream is real

Like the bird and its little white chest

Is my hand as it strokes yours on my stomach.

The bird waits patiently outside my window and yours

Now at different places, but the very same bird

How does he do it

He flies between dreams, that is how, between night

And night, night where I lie awake thinking about you

And night where you sleep not wanting to be awake

Without us.

This bird is for us and it is us, today and tomorrow

And all these days when you are not here and I am nowhere

For if you are a ghost in my mind my existence is insecure too.

◄ On my way

Poems are not for happy days ►

Comments

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Celia

Tue 8th May 2018 14:39

Thank you Wood ?

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Wood

Tue 8th May 2018 02:42

Hello

very much liked the words you placed here to read.
thank you.

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