Monday, November 30, 2009


It came to me,
her Nightingale song,

naught but a whiper on the wind
stirring the curtians of my darkend room.

I saw her in the deepening shadow,
a tempting mirage.
When I looked in earnest
she would fade as if a dream.

As nights passed slowly
louder her lullaby song grew stronger,
more sure.
Entering my dreams -
singing me love songs

soft and warm,
small in my hand.

Tentaively I reached out,
beckoning her to me,
feeling only the flutter of wings
as she flew.


Furrow said...

That's beautiful. I hope it comforts you to be visited by your nightingale, however briefly.

MrsSpock said...