The Lonely Birds

They were just two lonely birds

When he took to the skies

Built his nest

Far away from her

She preened her feathers

Sang songs of melancholy

By the fountain of youth

Illusions floated

On the water

Amid the endlessly moving ripples

Dwelling within animated atoms and molecules

Behold the fountain

When nightfall covered the sky

Stars

Wide-eyed observed

The moon’s exposed face

Shining her brilliance

On veiled illusions

She floated on her surface

Wings extended

Bathing with speckled light

Caressing feathers

Brushed away

The creases that formed

The wind

Disturbed and altered

What her eyes perceived

As truth

The moon

Face etched in creases

Placed there by time

Time

Great storyteller

Imprinting experience

Into creases and folds

She saw

The moon’s face

As it was

Beseeched the wind

To stop puffing

So she could marvel

At history

Recorded

They were just two lonely birds

When he took to the skies

Built his nest

Far away from her

She sits

Within a pocket

Of time

Waiting just inside

Lurks also her fear

So she sings

Her songs

Of melancholy

And time

Faithfully recalls

Her waiting

She looks at her reflection

Inside the moon’s face

Sees

New creases

And folds

Still a lonely bird