To the South Owl,
The sun is at the end of its line,
and stars are climbing up through my mind,
lights have gone off into the glares,
and all I can feel is the air,
Through your hair, I believe,
I see my senses breathing free through our dreams.
Miles away from our beating hearts,
We find our solace in the stars,
The place out of their reach,
Within the realm of love and believe,
Kept secret within our screens,
Not for the universe to peek through our need.
You rest your owl out in the south,
And my letters scream out the words aloud,
I hope these terms will fly out through our sigh,
and meet with the owl into your blood stream, high !
“Hi there my dear ! I know we miss the bench and tears,
But here we are again, assembling the stars to appear ,
I know our faiths might not rhyme,
But poems are for human’s mind,
We don’t need these fancy lines,
We will redefine the story line.
Hear me out, I am screaming loud,
From miles away from my lonely town.
Let birds sing our song to break their vow,
Till then come with me and we will dance around to a song unknown .”
I wrote this from an ink of my crown,
And I will feel it till my end is announced,
This is not a painted noun,
But a poet breathing rhymes, through your sound.
- – The North Parrot