when for simple songs i thirst

"But I, I love it when you sing to me; and you, you can sing
me anything…"—Peter Gabriel, The Book of Love

i.
only a leaf      
        parachuting,
                golden with ripeness,
                        from majestic heights,
                                stooping low to feed the earth.
only a bird
        softly fluting
                over dew mountains,
                        as the sun alights
                                just to witness day's new birth.
 
ii.
only a drop
        of rain, weeping
                with countless others
                        destined for the sea,
                                there to melt upon her floor.
only a sigh,
        vigil keeping
                for some bruised heartstring
                        on whose balcony
                                all life's disenchantments pour.
 
iii.
only your voice
        in the silence,
                lending me courage
                        for another day,
                                when i struggle, at my worst.
only your smile,
        as its radiance
                aborts the darkness
                        that impedes my clay,
                                when for simple songs i thirst...

© Copyright 2022 November 06
by Clyve A. Bowen♫