The doomed regard dawn
with a hungry glance,
and reaches to grasp it
close to his chest.

He,who marks time
fingers every hour
to caress the golden feathers
that will soon waft away.

The chirp of the willow wren-
a glissando symphony
that sedates the anxious heart
while it goes to sleep.

Sense after sense marches
in a parade,tapping drums
in cadence to the passing hours
until the music fades.

05/12/2003

Posted on 05/13/2003
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce