Songbird
it's perfect light perhaps
that brings this constant relapse
the hint of a smile
the small, busy, music of your being
that sets me singing
and I can't fight free
of the need in me
to learn every word
thus far unspoken, unheard
between us
I wish there was a cure
some way to endure
this incomplete healing
move past move on
substitute numbness
where there is feeling
stop aching
faking my recovery
cage door gaping wide
I remain locked inside
a songbird on a perch
wishing you could hear me sing.
Don McGonigal - June 2007
Copyright 2007