poem

Bury me

In the deepest tomb

Where the only light

Is that which I bring

If birds could talk, what would they say?

Today is another gorgeous day?

Not really, I think, they're too busy foraging

Stop them to speak, they'll ask you for nothing

What could you give them, but chauvinism and pride?

A bird looks right through you; you have nothing to hide

She will ignore you and continue her search

Saving her speech for someone she loves

If love were an apple, I'd take a bite and put her in a box

Where only I could find her

Hinged, and unlocked

Opening the box I see

Love as true as before

Although she's true

She begins to fade

I close the box once more

I gave her my ear

She turned away

Knowing

I asked her for help

She laughed at me

Glowing

I passed her on street

Her falsities showing

Forgave her in heart

Our energy flowing

The song in my heart is smoother than the smoothest jazz

It plays on the record machine in the foyer adjacent to the living room

It sounds like a needle collecting dust of which there is little around

The song in my heart is the sound a dog hears when her master offers correction for behavior

Her behavior as temporal as the song itself as she sleeps on my lap

Her well-being my own

The song in my heart beats like a drum

Its rhythm influenced by many

A torrid affair that goes on