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Poem

Of Dreams And Wings

I speak of night as though it were
a soup astir of lovely taste -
a kiss, no haste; bright stars our light.
I speak of love as though I could
have what I would, and where and when,
and who, and then be dreaming of
the one who'd come into my life
and be my wife - she'd never part
with me. Her heart would be my drum.

I dream of birds throughout the night
soaring in flight, above my pain.
Awake, I strain to find the words.
I speak of dreams as though designed
by my own mind. It soothes my soul
to feign control (or so it seems).
Can I release control of things
with soaring wings that I speak of:
birds, dreams, and love, and find my peace?

But then I learned the more I tried
to plan this ride or stoke that fire,
the flames grew higher and dreams were burned
until I heard a distant beat:
her drum, her sweet, pure melody -
our destiny: music meets words.
Our song's not through, though years fly by
I still sing my best memory:
that day when we each said, "I do".


Note - In this form, each stanza consists of three tercets in iambic tetrameter,  with rhymes on the 4th and 8th syllable and the internal rhyme scheme of

    A - B
    B - C
    C - A


written 11 July 2021

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