Living

*living* We dont have a story So a love song will never be. No poems or portraits, Only a grey moon And a salty sea. In the darkest corner of our room you built us a home you made me stay Made me pray. Great master you created yourself Out of creation , left us with little Pieces of you to find And to colour them pink Red and leathery black. I traced a bird from the glum sky, She caged it, I sang to it She painted it red I fostered it She stole all its poems: I loved , She consumed. Caged bird Stop singing Look how the sun ages without its yellow In your black wings So you have come to visit, I rise to greet: my pen falls, drying, dying An uninspired life starting with a poem, ending with A song