The week was long without you.
There is always this tension
Like watching a bird teeter back and forth
On a line above the garden.
I wonder to myself but I don't say it:
Will she stay?
Will she fall?
Will she fly away?
If I held out my hand, might she fly to me,
Perch for an instant on my finger,
Hesitate or linger...
Even if she lit and flew away
I would have that instant
Forever.
....
© Anne 2008....
No comments:
Post a Comment