poem – Page 54 – Hearts Still Care

Bird Calls

I am quieter,
I don’t want to strain to hear
Monsoon birds twitter now;
I hear them though, in the morning,
Some calls seem weak, some strong…

I am sadder,
As I look at all I hold dear;
Grave lines serrate my brow
While I question all my yearning
That can’t tell right from wrong.

The days fly by,
Like seasons do;
I’m forgotten;
But alive, too.

Few days are good;
Most still are bad;
Some hours bring smiles;
Most keep me sad.

As the days go,
I let them, one
By one, and blur
The moon and the sun.

I put on smiles,
As night takes day;
And like the night,
They do not stay.

So I live them,
Like pills and sleep,
Like dreams I dream;
But cannot keep.

Shine down on me, starry night,
Shower your blues and yellows;
Transcend death into your light;
I’ll wait until it all mellows.

Your buildings are cut and dry,
Blue-grey trees keeping them soft,
There’s one great star asking, why
Black brush strokes hold the sky aloft?

Faith falls short in my belief;
Nature becomes the pillars;
Trees big and small give relief
People are silent killers.

Starry night, kindly, be kind
And merge these lines into one;
Leave not a sole stroke behind
Beautify what you’ve begun.