There's a bird in a tree
Near my window that sings
Past midnight
The sweetest melodies.

It knows not,
Or perhaps doesn't want to
That the sky
It trills at so earnestly

Is brightened not by the sun
But by lights
That hide peril
In their electric embrace.

I'm a bit like that gullible bird,
Allowing my heart to
Soar at the false dawn
Of electronic relationships.