1983 Forever
Autumn sky is company,
in leaf filled tornados I am free.
In all these hues,
It's the blues I see.
Your voice,
a rustle in the wind,
a rumour,
a murmur,
the hole in my heart,
blood that escapes my veins.
I long for a home,
a bird forever on the wing,
never a song to sing.
These windows are my prison.
I force the tree's spiteful limbs
into witches' fingers.
Tree fingers,
hoping to cast a liberty spell,
but spells fall not on the dead of heart.
I am futile,
I am spun sugar,
brittle,
a
lone
ingredient,
that which has no place in the mouth of your existence.
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