the ugly writers

Two songbirds sing

Baths spark and fires end, cupped, capped talons are frail. The night, the days. More love with a longing haze. Time! What a tale above sunrise hate. Hell. Must be a short, long winter without you.

Two songbirds sing.

Winds breaking.

Leaves breathing, fluttering high, attached branches slamming nigh. They tower amidst a midnight sky’s passionate dream. And their feelings are oh so velvety clean.

Up up.

Fall free this winter’s noon?

Oh! The galloping halls, the surrounding years, they sing ting a ling.

Eyes graving sight, last from the night.

I two me a team, splashing amongst in a dark blue park.

Two songbirds sing.

The leaves flutter, breath solo, tamper damp tis still.

Chickadee, chicka-clean, silk-worming.

Food?

Winds!

Sunset love, a rainbow bridge, park at the walk’s end. Meet me?

Swallow a worm, swallow a bird.

Baths spark and fires end, cupped, capped talons are frail.

The night, the days. More love with a longing haze.

Time! What a tale above sunrise hate.

Hell. Must be a short, long winter without you.

Mind might come nigh! Dancing nature, birds in the sky. The beautiful top plume.

These molting souls are in the same park, soaking in an ever remaining dark.

 

Read previous submissions for the theme Beauty and Chaos:

the ugly writers the ugly writers the ugly writers the ugly writers

Default image
Carson Woodard

Leave a Reply

Please Login to comment
  Subscribe  
Notify of