She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Mockingbird

He cares nothing
About Car horns
Sirens
Angry voices

Nor does he bother with
Traffic
Commercials
Billboards
Sneakers tied together hanging from the telephone wire

For the burning ember
Falling low
Paints the sky
Stains the clouds with water colors

A silver Cheshire crescent moon
Follows with precision
Falling through indigo gradient

So he sings
From the tree top
Letting loose his bursts of song
One by one
Evening falls low
Curtains hang still

No
He cares not for any of them
They don't even exist
His song rises up
Out from the tree top


As I listen
All else fades
There is nothing else but his song
They don't even exist


There is only him now
And me
With a wink he darts off
Into the shadows


Evening wraps her shroud about me
I surrender to her embrace

2 comments:

Honour said...

this is lovely ... i love the phrase "indigo gradient" - just like the colors of your poem. our nights here in Alberta are like that. i also really connected to your poem "transparent" ... keep on sharing!

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

Alberta...
Sounds like paradise to me
I was there once, long ago
A few days and nights on my trek across Canada

Thanks for stopping by - and for the kind words.

"Transparent" is actuallly a song but the music keeps eluding me, and everytime I try to work it out - it changes.

But that's ok :)
gives me somthing to work on