The eagle
brushstroked black
talons to beak
broke red blue  
in the white sky
tiny scarlet prey
fought and died
in once soft grasp
matron touch
a child freely
loved plumped fed and feathered
in aerie
tall safe high from
screech and whoop
the drop to the
loops of barbed wire below

heads of golden yellow stem so green and bright
standing up so tall standing so upright.

glowing in the sun in the early dawn
sat there on display in the early morn.

even in the boxes of the window sill
this lovely springtime flower the golden daffodil.

such a sight  to see such a lovely thing
i love to see the daffodils in the early spring

Birds lull enchanting eyes closed,
with a feathery kiss of a lullaby;
Timid, temporary breaths sigh into the breeze,
like soft music, playing from a pastel castle,
a muse of life, a soft tune amidst midnight's hue.

i find it funny
how often i speak of love
when i myself
don't quite know what it is
and don't quite know what the difference is
between romance
and romanticised.