Song Bird

February 8, 2009
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I've been thinking recently,
And though that's nothing new,
The subject's a little different:
I've been thinking about you.

There are things I want to tell you;
It seems I never get a chance
To look in your eyes and say these things
While you hold my hands.

Writing them here isn't the same
As speaking them when I'm with you;
But I'll imagine that you'll smile
At least once as you read this through.

It was at one time apparent
That love would not find me
Til my heart had matured more.
This, I thought, meant I was free,

Free from small obligations
That I didn't even desire:
Presents to be bought, dates remembered,
More things to make me tired.

Nothing could have prepared me,
The shock of it left me breathless;
You were wholly unexpected,
I would never have guessed this.

My heart left me quietly.
It's absence went unnoticed,
Til I didn't feel its thump
The very next time we kissed.

I was amazed when I realized
That I had fallen in love.
With no pretense, no conscious choice,
And no singing from above.

The fall had been short and silent,
And at the bottom I found
Simple beauty and comfort.
There I heard a new sound.

The song of love is not composed
Of any major or minor key;
It is not writ on staff paper
For any stray eyes to see.

I could not reproduce it,
Not with one hundred instruments;
And never do I plan to try,
If I've at all any sense.

This sweet, ethereal song,
Kept in beat by your strong heart,
Made me feel I was in a dream.
From you I did not want to part,

For fear I would awaken
To the routine and simple days
Of my life before you entered;
That world was colored black and grey.

Now, I find myself a song bird
That's been caged within your eyes;
And the song my heart's long hummed
Was simply your song in disguise.

I feel the need to let you know
With this I am not at all through:
I'll have written my last word
When I stop loving you.





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