A blue bird underneath
a paper sun-
she looks at me with confusion,
as he hands the bird to me-
she leaps.
The blue bird returns at midnight
when he is gone,
she comforts me with a sweet song.
It is raining, and all is renewed-
fresh.
I love the spring and the way
we tiptoe over certain words
to avoid the waterfalls.
And as we lean over each other,
how could we stand apart?
To think of life without love-
I didn’t know a blue bird
could mean so much.