A Wild Bird Sings

Who can say what wild birds trill

Hidden in a thickets clutch;

I hear their harmonizing songs

Out of dreamers sight.

Perhaps the wild birds sing of hope

Perhaps of love or sorrow,

Each takes it’s quiet leave at dusk

To sing again tomorrow.

Dear harbingers upon the wing,

You gladden winters end;

You bring sweet trilling songs to me

To trumpet Spring around the bend.

Corrine Schlessel © June 2008

Midas Touch

Too many years of life are gone,

once blinded by romance,

Since fortune filled the void of love

and offered virgin chance.

Clothed now in finest wraps of silk

that leave a heart still cold,

Devoid of love that once was felt

though never once cajoled.

Costly clear blue diamond

by virtues lost; now dim,

Earned subject of too tempered whims,

gone to ruin within.

Whatever heartfelt feelings

must she now disallow,

Pride put aside yet grant it not,

for broken trusted vow.

Beaten down by word and deed,

suffering injurious,

Yet love of life could not be swayed,

she bathed in it, luxurious.

Embraced by Midas many times

throughout this brutal strife,

It did not soothe accepting pain

for children’s fragile life.

Once pocketed a precious heart,

deprived it of it’s life

Possessed was said because of love,

his chattel was his wife.

Gone not with passage of the years

are scars of deep inflicted pain,

But vengeance shall be wrought on him

it will not be in vain.

Corrine G Schlessel,1995

MzSugah@aol.com