Before The Birds Go Quiet
There’s somethin bout death
that don’t sit right with my soul.
It’s a bit much
to think that one day
the draft won’t flow,
the birds won’t sing,
and the feel of her smooth skin
against the callouses on my fingers
won’t feel like magic.
There’s somethin bout death —
the way it creeps into memory
the same way high school sweethearts do,
sudden and smooth,
leavin in the wreckage
that old craving
to taste life again.
Ya see, I’ve spent my life
fillin the hourglass
with love notes and apologies,
makin sandcastles,
leavin footprints
on the shores of hearts
I couldn’t reach.
There’s somethin bout death
that feels like a song —
and I’ll sing out of tune
till it all makes sense.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
