Tuesday, February 07, 2012

To find what you have buried

There will always be
Stars in my sky
Doesn’t matter whether they have 
Fallen into dark lakes
Or yielded fields of rye
Don’t hide them too deep
Else birds must cease to fly
I will turn around
Every piece of debris
To find what you have buried
So birds can pick them
Like worms to feed their fledglings
Please don’t ask me why
I have this eerie feeling
Without stars there won’t be sky