little songbird

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: January 04, 2016

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Submitted: January 04, 2016

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Yours is the quietest voice I hear, if I stop and listen, that's when it appears.

 

You open with a trill, my heart rate slows down, I lay in the soft grass, melt into the ground.

 

What do you sing of, sweet little bird?

 

Who are you calling to, do they return?

 

I'm tempted to find you, but I stay still instead, settled by your lullaby, an unexpected bed.

 

Eyes closed, the sunlight dances on my lids and the breeze seems to follow the notes that you give.

 

I imagine you watching me, high in a tree, taking delight in my love of your secret symphony.


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