on gray mornings
the birds sing
their gray songs
hidden within the brier
calling into this space
where amber once lay warm
upon Spring-bloom’s lavender
and I wonder
if I shall ever
feel again
as I’d once felt
these loves–
all borrowed
must be returned–
let the birds sing
their gray songs
and I shall listen
learning their lovely colors
tho leaving them hidden
nestled within their keep
until another lover
worthy of their ballad
comes along
tho I shall remember
each one
telling a silent world
of their songs

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I've come to write.

2 thoughts on “ballads”

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