It Ends With a Question
i am not a bird whose black
for i am a blackbird
with my lumpy back
turned away from her
the dying moon
shadowing pale blue waters
made this blackbird teary
where as a bird who was black
they'd be dreary
but i felt the dying moon
hover over my galaxy
i soared closer
for a pinch more
i am the last blackbird
facing this mountain
in awe that her final thouqhts towards me were beautiful
she freed the sun
for the sake
of the butterflies flying inside me?
Copyright © Chante Reeves | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment