General Poetry posted February 9, 2018


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A short rhymed poem

The Blackbird is Flown

by tfawcus

Though the blackbird is flown
and my hearing is gone,
I still hear the song,
its echo forlorn
in the jumble of years
amid atrophied layers
of my temporal lobe,
and the jumble of fears
as my heartstrings grow cold
and I journey alone...
I shall miss you, my dears.


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Thanks to Susan F M T for permission to use her photo.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by Susan F. M. T. at FanArtReview.com

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© Copyright 2018. tfawcus All rights reserved.
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