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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1365127
The karmic reaction to 'the bird's song'. Interference is inherent in our purview.
When she held his hand,
It was like a bridge between spring and summer
Birds sang.

When she held his hand,
It was like a garlanded bridge made of flowers
Bluebirds sang.

When she held his hand,
It was all rivers of chocolate, syrup tongues
A bluebird sang.

Peering into the blackness of her life:

When she held his hand,
It was like two hands touching
Nothing sang

But noise
Perhaps existed.
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