Though each fold be lovingly placed
One thing is for sure it may not glide.

And just because a thing has wings
No matter how you try it may not fly.

And should you ask me why?  
This would be my reply,

"It's just that way with fragile things."

Love is
A river
That rages
In stages.
Wanting to be
Free it climbs
Its banks as if
Wanting to see
What is on
Each side.
So comes
Forth the poem
From just
One line
"Time is a river."

She sits at the top of the tree calling.
Searching and calling for babies grown.
She wants them back, those who have flown.
She has decided she no longer wants to be alone
So, she is calling, "Come home!  Come home!"
But they are gone since they are grown,
Just as it should be.  Yes, they have flown on bold wings,
While she is left behind and day by day is growing old.
So, she will build a new nest.  And she will sit and try to sing.

Alternate version:
She sits at the top of the tree calling.
Searching and calling for babies grown.
She wants them back, those who have flown.
She has decided she no longer wants to be alone
So, she is calling, "Come home!  Come home!"
But they are gone since they are grown,
Just as it should be.  Yes, they have flown on bold wings,
While she is left behind and day by day is growing old.
So, she will build a new nest where she will rest.
And she will sit and try to sing, alone.  But not for long.

You were written
In a language
No one understands.

You became a star
In the night sky.
While I?  I truly tried
To read your code

When you burst
Into a supernova
Overhead.

A mockingbird suddenly chirps
Just like a cricket's sound.
Then it beeps like a car alarm.
It runs through its amazing repertoire,
None of which these creatures truly are.
I've known men just like that.

I hear the little pitter-patter of raindrops
And listen for the sound of ice as it falls.
Raindrops manifested as ice crystals
With its delicate but distinctive sound
As the tiny bits ****** softly down
Like seeds scattered on the ground.

They glisten like slivered splinters of glass
Amid the fallen autumn leaves on grass
And magnify the beauty with shards of color
Glinting through accumulating gathered ice.
A foundation for a Crystal Palace in miniature
The beauty captivates within a time capsule

Of only one wintery day.

Death allows as time goes forth,
For empathy where you once had none.
No longer vulnerable to the hooks
That can tear at a heart opened.
They cannot hurt you now.