The Sounds I Hear

The Sounds I Hear Like a female, Silent as wind, Opening her black purse, Like a crow, Who wanders through the fields, Making sure no one sees, Like a secret love affair of a married woman, With a married man, Whom didn’t care if they are used, Like Crayola markers But they know, Like a bird, If they are caught, They are screwed… Like an engine of a bus, Has many screws, That are only gray, But love, Is as colorful as birds chirping In the spring. Unlike winter, Dark, gray, black, sometimes silver… Like a man, Who only uses a woman for a while, And leaves her, Like leaves that have Fallen, Fallen, Fallen, Fallen From a lonely tree, And are left on the grass, Until winter is over, And spring has come. A new beginning for the female, Who waits for a decent man, To come and lift her From the ground But like a white board, The marker is used to illustrate, And in the end of the day, Is erased.