Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Saturday, July 03, 2021

No Blue Bird In Sight

The trees whispers and

the winds called out your name, 

the hills rumbled with the storm

as the gray skies remained.


I beckoned to the heavens

to the sunshine send

like the warmth of love 

that is here to the end. 


~

I kept my heart on guard

to never ever let it feel again, 

the pieces now put together

allowing this heart of mine to mend.


They say that time is the greatest healer

what a fool is he who first wrote those words,

for the ache remains forever within me

with no sight of that darn blue bird. 




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