The little girl has never spoken
Not even a single word
Her voice since birth was broken
A sentence was never heard

She liked to watch the birds each day
As they played in the summer breeze
They'd always take her breath away
As she watched them in the trees

The mocking bird, her bird of choice
Would make her smile appear
She loved to hear his magical voice
Each time that he came near

And though her voice was far away
She'd whistle for his reply
She'd listen to the songs he'd play
Until he said goodbye

He made her feel like she could speak
A language they both understood
And though they used their own technique
They spoke every chance they could

A little girl and her mocking bird
Has quite the conversation
They talk all day without a word
Through the gift of imitation

In my book of memories,
a girl wrote a poem, long ago,
*reading it alone, going back to the page,
the meaning gets upside down.

Come in sit down kick off your shoes
I'll rub those weary feet
lay back relax forget your blues
and feel my body heat
Eyes shut hush now words have no use
as I attend you slow
Skirt raised to knees and blouse hung loose
and hushed breath breathed low
Legs part knees bend and eyes roll back
my fingers cause new pains
lace touch on silk as muscles contract
as nought but my touch remains
Lights out door locked and clothes removed
two bodies joined as one
for with my hands your body soothed
and all thoughts of sleep now gone

Give it to me straight,
A London Dry Gin.
No ice to chill the swig,
No bitters to alter the taste.
I want to endure things as they are,
True. Pure.

Perhaps only the bartender will ever understand.

The paper will always listen
To what a teardrop has to say
We write with tears to free the soul
As we wipe the stains away

Heartaches are filled with heavy words
Tears make our heartaches light
Whenever we feel the weight of the world
The tears begin to write

The paper will never judge us
No matter who we are
Its only purpose is to catch the tears
And heal our spirit's scar

Inside of every tear that falls
A broken heart is found
It must slowly stain the paper
Before it can make a sound

It's a necessary combination
These heartache souvenirs
A marriage made in heaven
The paper and the tears