Dear Cuckoo

Dear Cuckoo, You come again, I hear your song, But I’m left empty, At the shore of creativity. My pen bleeds nothing, My creativity lies in pieces, There’s a hole in my poetry bag, I can not save your beautiful songs. Darkness has fallen on the world, And you keep reminding me, Of the lost beauty. Don’t sing, dear cuckoo, Your songs are wasted, In this robotic world. Go and fly away, Find a forest of green, Where hearts are still alive, And souls can still dream. Your melodies deserve, An audience that feels, Not just digital screens, But the touch of what’s real. The poetry in you, Is a gift to be cherished, But here it’s suffocated, By coldness and malice. So spread your wings wide, In the light of the sun, Let your notes echo, In a place where they’ll run. Find love in the wild, Where emotions roam free, Leave the hollow behind, For a world that can see. Dear cuckoo, be free, Let your song find its home, In the heart of the living, Where true beauty is known. …