The Poem

You wrote me a poem of lovely birds,

of blessed days and of beating hearts

You gave me a smile of priceless worth

A serene feeling, a blazing mirth.

Swelled so much in love, my heart-

It pounded so fast, it began to hurt.

But I only had it all, to lose it all over again-

And love was a feeling, I struggled with, in vain.

But i just found the poem you wrote

Folded dearly with an endearing quote:

"For God's sake, hold your tongue and let me love"

- I read;

It made me laugh, my cheeks reddened.

What shall l do with a piece of long-gone spring?

An enfolded parchment with so tender a feeling?

I can write you a poem of nocturnal birds

Of cursed nights and of aching hearts...

The wailing city, Where birds have never sung.

The sense of -

 "a burning forehead and a parching tongue".

Where Life willfully gives Death an eternal embrace;

The spring of yours… Is out of place!