The light of the morning wakened me
And the song of the blackbird in the tree.
I close my eyes to the mocking beams
My ears to the song sung not for me.
I cannot bear the sweetness of the day
That fills with light the empty space
So full of passion until you left
Saying this could never be your place.
The morning breaks on broken dreams
Their scattered fragments sharp as any thorn
For you have gone without a backward glance
The love I seeded in your heart stillborn.
You never heard the blackbird’s morning song
And never felt the flutter of my heart.
You never felt it sink into your own
Nor its grieving when you tore them both apart.
Reblogged this on theowlladyblog.
Beautiful, I posted this with your poem on A Poet’s Journey Facebook page : Jane is reluctant to call herself a poet, but whatever else this may be – it is also sublime.
Thank you, Laine! That’s kind of you. I don’t know this group; I’ll look it up.
😀