Bluebird
Where have you gone my little bluebird?
A faint fluttering in the remote horizon
is the most inadequate serenity.
I endeavor to hear what I can no longer see.
I used to watch you watch me all-knowing.
You left this existence taking most of life’s
serenity and tranquility with you.
The spot you used to perch outside my window
is forever pale and desolate with your absence.
Memories of you are like uncertain hands erratically
grasping the caged bird.
Where have you gone my little bluebird?
A faint fluttering in the remote horizon
is the most inadequate serenity.
I endeavor to hear what I can no longer see.
I used to watch you watch me all-knowing.
You left this existence taking most of life’s
serenity and tranquility with you.
The spot you used to perch outside my window
is forever pale and desolate with your absence.
Memories of you are like uncertain hands erratically
grasping the caged bird.
My heart remains clutched with your absence.
I lament at the thought of your radiant feathers.
So vivid in colour it scorches the most obsequious eye.
I can only exist without your bewitching quaver.
So, I depart toward the basking sun in search of you
among the illuminating stars.
The light reflects upon the sheen of your pristine
feathers. You sparkle there just as you did here.
A polished stone within a pestering sea of
dreary quintessence.
This grievous taste is embedded in the back of
my throat. A constant reminder you are soaring
far away from this vapid world. Your sharp, rusty cage
remains uninhibited.
My hands unfold to catch a vagrant feather from
your glistening body. It spins and twirls as it tumbles
from the heavens. A meager token of your vivacity as
I anticipate your reappearance.
Until then, I abide to wait for you my bluebird.
I lament at the thought of your radiant feathers.
So vivid in colour it scorches the most obsequious eye.
I can only exist without your bewitching quaver.
So, I depart toward the basking sun in search of you
among the illuminating stars.
The light reflects upon the sheen of your pristine
feathers. You sparkle there just as you did here.
A polished stone within a pestering sea of
dreary quintessence.
This grievous taste is embedded in the back of
my throat. A constant reminder you are soaring
far away from this vapid world. Your sharp, rusty cage
remains uninhibited.
My hands unfold to catch a vagrant feather from
your glistening body. It spins and twirls as it tumbles
from the heavens. A meager token of your vivacity as
I anticipate your reappearance.
Until then, I abide to wait for you my bluebird.
© 2011 L. Tripaldi
