What more should I be
or can you here on your own conceive
that the winged feather so easily has fluttered by
said its peace, marked well the evening
laid its form soft to your touch
And kissed the lullaby.

Would that I hold you
where tales of the unexpected drift, lingers
like a flower that blooms
cast forth its form, draws the delight
then fades away to another sight
Of fallen petals, the bloom is shed.

There's a song that even the birds so know
it gathers in the wind, hovers upon the nest
to sing the lilts of loves caresses
the tender sighs
That breaks the silence of the storm.

I sit where the peaks of life
drain upon the open passages of the soul
Look deep within those eyes
like mirrored panels reflecting
the same image over and over
till soon its mine staring back
across time, years and decades
It is this that is our common ground.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph