Bird Watcher

by

McKenna Byrne

This futile love that overflew all bounds
Is credited to me; the die was cast,
And from our first embrace until our last,
The mea culpa very clearly sounds.
Over my shoulder now I glimpse your face;
It is the face whose burning mouth once said -
With countless kisses on my outlaw head -
Your heart had found its final dwelling place.
Not so. You are a stranger to yourself, my love,
But not to me; I know you for a wild bird
Snared tight in narrow quarters, feet secured,
Deprived of vision, laced to a sportsman's glove.
Call our love lost, though I solitary be,
No hooded falcon makes a home with me.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Vibrations
by: Ami Kane
from: Bath, England, UK

To visit all of McKenna Byrne's poems, click HERE

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