Thursday, 12 August 2010

The Meadowlark

There's a finger in the wind,
Tracing soft across my face
I wonder where I've been
Can't seem to remember this place

It's almost half-familiar,
Not quite a full memory
But if I could count quintillion
Maybe then I'd be able to see

It's all the sound of a meadowlark,
All a birdsong in the end
Hark, hark, to the meadowlark
Don't be afraid to mend

A broken heart is only half
But half is better than none
A frown is only a wrongside laugh
Don't give up, you're not yet done

There's more to do, dear meadowlark
More to find, dear friend
Don't cry, dear meadowlark,
Don't be afraid to bend

Stringing along a broken toy
Following an overgrown path
Turning grown men back into boys
Oblivious to all of divine wrath

Sweet, sweet the meadowlark,
Winding the path you wend
You're all alone, dear meadowlark
Don't be afraid to 'fend

It's all dark in the meadow now
The lark has gone to bed
In the silence hangs the question: how
With so much in her head

Sleep, sleep now the meadowlark
To the world of dreams now send
All your thoughts, dear meadowlark
It all has come to an end.


  1. Wow. I wish I could spout out poetry like you do! This is beautiful... and it feels so deep- I'm sure I'm not getting half of it. It's so beautiful, though. :)

  2. Thanks. I specialise in pseudo-depth.

  3. Wow. Just wow. Only wow. Utter amazement. This is beautiful.

  4. Thanks. I like the way it sounds; I really don't know what to make of it, though.