The Picnic

Thu, 09/05/2013 - 17:16 -- TayGow

In the winter, cold and bleak,

I sat upon my window seat. Looking out into the world,

I saw a bird perched in the snow. No doubt this bird was wishing for a drop of gold,

a piece of warmth; in which the bird and I were one, two different souls longing for summer's heat...

 

In the summer, warm and bright, the bird and I sat side by side.

A meadow full of violet roses, surrounded by a dense, green wood.

Quite softely in the distant forest, a trickling stream filled our ears. 

The golden ball up in the sky rained down on us its rays of light;

soaking in the bird's blue feathers, washing all thoughts of cold away...

 

On a blanket, red and white, our picnic lasts into the night. In my long, white,

summer dress, I gaze upon my feathered friend. Right beside me, as I watch, 

my bird transforms under the stars! A man with a polo and holes in his jeans,

takes place of the animal with wings. Silently, I took his hand, and we danced,

my blue bird man and I...

 

In the winter, cold and bleak, I sit upon my window seat. Looking out into the world,

I watched a bird take flight. 

No doubt this bird was searching for a tree of warmth, a place of gold;

in which the bird and I were one, two different souls, longing for summer's heat...

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741