Birds

The birds outside my window woke me too early
their persistance cut through my dreams
My burnt out mind thanks them
because I would have slept all day long.

It was that same dream again.
Where I was the top, A OK girl of the world
with minions doing my bidding and fulfilling my whims
but I kept lookiing for you behind every curtain in my house.

Again, I thank the singing of the birds outside my windows
for not letting me live in that world too long
growing weak and angry and disillusioned
as I search for something I was never supposed to find.

Reviews

[Christina May Shanaberg]

I enjoyed reading this poem and have, often, been awakened by birds; don't remember what I was dreaming, though. I like the story in the poem very much. Sometimes, our dreams are a whole lot more exciting, fulfilling, and enjoyable than our waking hours.