A.W. Books & Poetry

Have this feeling,

But I hold my own

Songbird you’re a mystery

I don’t know if I’ll ever solve.

But I like your glance,

Soft as down,

And the way your sing

In fiery waves, like your sign.

My hand is out but I fear your intention,

I can’t take apart my perception of you,

Or the way perceive me

It’s a delicate thing to obtain trust:

Do I keep my senses open,

Or do I step off the gallows blindly,

Unsure if the noose is slack or hung?

Hamlet’s soliloquy precedes a tragic finale.

From your branch I watch you take me in,

And in your eyes is a fear alike.

So, I hold my hand out with some sunflower seeds

And I’ll try not to run when you fly close to me.

~Annalise