they whisper sweet nothings
to the lonely dreamers who stare
for wont of anything else
to sing, swing them in sweet circular exstacies
to sleep at night,
every night
even if there is someone
who is there but not sharing
lonely skies with
dreamers who
must stare
with longing
at stars
they are the voices that chirrup constantly
when dark is quietest,
they are the stirrings of chicks in their nests
muted tones of invisible creatures
heard only in the lonely hours,
heard without knowing they are heard
else they would be silent.
the stars are every latent wish
waiting to fall
every undared kiss
limpid and exalted
dewing lips
of flowers
who still must grow at the wall.
A contest entry
- PIF - quote prompt. by Luckintheshadows.
450 points, ended March 30, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
enjoy
Comments
-
They are the chirps in my ears...
Nope. that is chainsaw damage.
My little one at a bonfire said' look Mom! the sparks are going up to become stars!'
Ecstasies... -
WOW
This is brilliant! I love it....thanks SO much for entering the contest and for sharing this utterly beautiful poem,
Luck.
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