Poem direct towards the feeling of absence, or lack there of. |
A little canary rests upon its perch sitting lonely in its cage, facing the doorway, waiting, for a someone to enter to hear it sing. Rain falls noisily on the troughs, just beyond the window panes, while a storm rages behind the shutters. There's no one home to keep a candle lit in case the lights should go out. Nor a message left to comfort the lonely soul sitting in the darkness of the living room with its head down, shirt untucked. The canary sings fanciful with its yellow tufts a-plume hardly noticeable in the shadows of the storm, looming hesitantly upon the drapes- casting out all the light, whilst the yellow canary sings above the cracking thunder It is not night, but the soul rests its head. Slouching in the arm chair with arms crossing its chest wishing it were the rain, apart of the fear in the storm which breathes so violently down upon our backs when they're turned to past hiding from the ones who've hurt us. The soul slouches miserably staring down at its lap The canary still so vibrant in the dark sings to no one, and no one responds with its head turned toward the door filling the emptiness of its cage listening to the rain pour. |