Pigeons

(Sometimes) Lovers are strangers – recipients of commerce.

Lend me a pen for swooping calligraphy.
Give me a time,
a place at the Willow Tree
blooming orchids of fate but,

(You) Mourn bliss, sacrificed for Oblivion.

No sense,
no Holy Halos –
Hopes to be forward but short –

hopelessly distant,

Birds (have to) bless you
beneath the sun’s radiance –
fly to you, to wish to embrace you.

Carrying penned words of:
ardent thanks,
sincere sympathy,
greetings …

then sealed.

Free (fall) freedom feelings:
blushed cheeks,
scarlet smiles,
faint porcelain skin,

(Before) falling head on in love with words,
setting skies, and singing birds –

I fell over my heels with reminiscing of home.

Free (flying) as the high atmosphere –
unslept hours staring at the depth of his breath,

To stare to an endless dream.

(Let go) Exhale a petal,
pick a petal,
my dear mockingbird.

Love me or Love me not –

pick a petal,

drop a petal…

Thoughts (so) breathlessly taken,
here or there,
timed and placed.

(You) Send me part two,
(can) will fly from heaven,

and back to me.

When birds (fly) amongst the sky to you and (back),
Only to settle where it may: (to me)

penned –home.

–               Emilyn Nguyen, Pigeons