“The Nightingale”

The nightingale
Refused to sing—
Though by nature inclined—
A trill every time—
This one was also
A cautious, little thing;
Songstress by name,
However, the female knows
When Day’s voices quiet
It is the male singing
While she darkly listens…
(Contemplates what one can
Only feel—the tactile
When absence of light)
At length deciding
In favor of his night,
She turns from the moon,
Near Star’s Wise Reflection,
Makes a sun
Of her-own heart…
Yet
He would not start
So she sang
Not out of tune—
Simply breaking tradition
Sang lovely, to her turned from moon—
Sang a crescent-silver-sliver,
A full-deliver;
Sang lovely,
For worlds she could only dream
Living in the shadows
Of her distant glimmers—
Her twinkle-voice a-twinkle—
As her Venus to her Mars
She sang…
Sang
Till a fine note
Silenced the silence
Of his throat—
And he sang

“The Nightingale”

devotee1

Joined February 2008

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • lianne
  • devotee1
  • Lisa  Jewell
  • devotee1
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