My Little Bird

I tried to make you feel
What loving ought to be
I ask if you wanted me
To make you mine

But there you are
Running away
In the fields
In the open skies
Running away from me

I tried to ask
If there is something I can do
For how would I know
What you are growing
Inside you?

But your lips are tight
As virginal as
The early rose bud

There is no word
That I hear from the air
Or from the sea
Or from the mountain

I look at the fountain
There is no dropp of water

I look out into the open
And there you are
My little bird
Flying away from me

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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