Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
lexy-weixelPoems
When I was a little girl no older than five, I ran around our neighborhood, my entire world at the time, and helped an aging neighbor find her lost canary. Then when I was an older girl still no more than eight, I walked around our neighborhood, small in retrospect, carrying a baby bird left for dead. Like a flower smothered by curtains, wilting in the heavy shadows of my hands. A year later, I hold my finger out to some bird perching in our tree, free as dizzy dust playing tag in the streaming light of day. Now I’m left with limp party streamers swaying in the wind, dancing with scattered daffodils in gutted greenhouses But when I curl my hands just right, like a folding lotus, I can still whistle to them.
0
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Canaries
When I was a little girl no older than five, I ran around our neighborhood, my entire world at the time, and helped an aging neighbor find her lost canary. Then when I was an older girl still no more than eight, I walked around our neighborhood, small in retrospect, carrying a baby bird left for dead. Like a flower smothered by curtains, wilting in the heavy shadows of my hands. A year later, I hold my finger out to some bird perching in our tree, free as dizzy dust playing tag in the streaming light of day. Now I’m left with limp party streamers swaying in the wind, dancing with scattered daffodils in gutted greenhouses But when I curl my hands just right, like a folding lotus, I can still whistle to them.
#birds#childhood
lexy-weixel
Written by
lexy-weixel
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem