Birds

The birds aloud are flying in my head

As if a concert of departing thoughts

Had started under a baguette

So whimsically pointing in the air

The flock of birds I lost amongst the clouds

Bids me farewell from high above

And makes me jealous on my deed

Of having troubled such a gathering

Which leaves me now not only poor

But also dreaming in the day

For having lost such deep and soft

A sound of intricate legacy

With what I am and what I offer in exchange

The sound of thoughts leaving me empty

A flying postcard of my thoughts

Now to be read or heard above.

Silence. The wings are spreading

Over the horizon of my immediate frame

And from the empty land they embrace the form

The newly born ideas, thoughts

While new birds are back on the wire of my song