Escape
Imagine,
a morning
when a bird sings,
a song of pleasure.
as love has no measure.
Calling out to the sky,
to bring new hope.
spreading wings,
to fly
over the horizon.
to cry.
For freedom,
from all the illusion. |
Nightingale
Sunlight kissed the nightingale,
summer embraced her soul.
Colours emerged and flowers bloomed
as the poet sang.
Her voice brightened the air -
as the trees listened and their leaves turned green.
Fruits and roots, heaven and earth,
welcomed the messenger.
And,as evening settled,
the nightingale took flight. |
