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A Poem

Photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash

If I don't hear the voice of the songbird,

Before receiving a boon of hope,

My soul starts to ask:

When to feel? How to cope?

I miss the song of the sweet songbird.

His sounds sweeten that which is sour.

The melodies find the most broken of flowers

And cast a cloud of rain which helps them

Smile and sing again.

The songs of flowers share the nature of my sweet songbird.

He sings to them in the way that a mother bear guides her cubs into a barrow

Or in the way that the trees greet each other:

Each note finds its significance not only in what once was, but what will always be.

Today, I hear the songbird, yet he sings solemnly.

Though I know his heart still beats and his wings still soar through the sky,

I still wonder


He only sings by himself, and hopes others hear his call.

It's as if he imagines himself imaginary,

So that no one notices his pain at all.

nature poetry
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Mihaela Vasileva

I write based on heart. I love based on thought. I think based on truth.

See all posts by Mihaela Vasileva