I was a bird who knew the sky,
a map of cloud, a sun warmed eye.
I knew the branch, the whispered air,
the weight of two- a joy to bear.
The world was song, a woven thread,
but now you're gone, the song is dead...
The open sky, now seems a fright,
a hollow, vast and aching light.
The wind, a ghost; the sun, a glare,
and every beat feels raw, aware,
of nothing where your wings spanned,
this empty, wide and dreaded land.
So, I retreat. On bars I lean,
this cage of now, of in-between.
And here I see, in iron gleam,
a memory-leaf, a petal dream,
a pinecone from the rain-sweet pine,
a dew drop that was once our wine.
I cannot bear the unknown air,
so a kingdom of ours I build here.
A shrine of might-have-been,
lost love's echoes dwelling within.
A captive, yes, but not bereft,
I keep the sky of what we left...
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 12:59 AM UTC
I was a bird who knew the sky,
a map of cloud, a sun warmed eye.
I knew the branch, the whispered air,
the weight of two- a joy to bear.
The world was song, a woven thread,
but now you're gone, the song is dead...
The open sky, now seems a fright,
a hollow, vast and aching light.
The wind, a ghost; the sun, a glare,
and every beat feels raw, aware,
of nothing where your wings spanned,
this empty, wide and dreaded land.
So, I retreat. On bars I lean,
this cage of now, of in-between.
And here I see, in iron gleam,
a memory-leaf, a petal dream,
a pinecone from the rain-sweet pine,
a dew drop that was once our wine.
I cannot bear the unknown air,
so a kingdom of ours I build here.
A shrine of might-have-been,
lost love's echoes dwelling within.
A captive, yes, but not bereft,
I keep the sky of what we left...
