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On Red WingsOn Red Wings7 years ago in In The End Poetry Comp
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She's a singer, on the wings of sparrows,
The one who calms storms with her voice.
When we crashed on the clouds,
We thought we were done.
Something spared me the silence,
Something cold touched my shoulder,
A soft hand, I recognized the smell.
A hand softer then the clouds I touched.
She sang that day, and I cried.
I tried to come to my senses,
But these days can't be remembered,
But they stay stored away safe somewhere.
I flew on red wings towards this love,
She sang to me, and I sat silent.
Her singing like the cooing of the dove,
Me the most attentive audience.
But terrible things were in motion,
And after that day I couldn't hear her sing again,
She softly touched my shoulder again,
And I waited.
She tried to warn me,
But I couldn't hear.
Her voice half heard as something overhead
-- A splash of white against the wavering sky --
Drones through the clouds, mechanical, bereft.