On an autumn walk at the ides of day
I saw birds of a feather fly together away.
As they flew over flames
In an ides-of-day way
They got caught in the weather
And so forever became
The tall twisted tale
That we hear of so much:
Two birds with one hailstone,
Death from maelstrom above.

Two lovebirds snuggle
in the shade of a weeping willow,
oblivious to chastising honks
of Canadian geese.

Blushing buds begin to bloom,
swollen with anticipation
as the solstice draws near
and blood boils beneath the skin.

Weathered voyeurs train watchful eyes
on the short-lived marriage of the flesh,
scoffing at the consummation of seasons,
knowing the fickle nature of the sun.

When the geese fly south, so will he.

I love to watch
          lovebirds
It reminds me
Of the warm
I always search for
but somehow
            always
fly away

Love is not for birds.
Its for beetles,
slowly slaving over
pushing their piles of ****
backwards up a hill in unison.

Lovebirds

An old man sat with patience
On the bench he waited for her
He smiled sweetly on her appearance
Hand in hand they walked together.

In the garden full of greens
The lovebirds chatted with laughter
As if they were in movie scenes
The way they looked at each other.

He stroke her hair gently
Her hair clip he'd bought years ago
Still intact she placed it neatly
That is the little pink flamingo.

Pleasant breeze they enjoyed
As they continued walking
Her fragile nature shivered
In her thin floral dress clothing.

He took off his outer layer shirt
Naturally putting it on her shoulders
She joked about wearing a skirt
He thought she was full of wonders.

He recalled her bravery
She reminisced his sacrifices
They've come far in life's journey
Counting their little happiness.

As I watched from a distance
I felt a pinch of sweet jealousy
Witnessing true love's existence
Yet wishing them to stay as lovely.