Wings

Wings, spread
wide, speckled gray.
A foreign tune
meledious and
sweet, flows,
a gentle river.
Inkspots
in a vase
shining in
the starlight,
true form emerging.
Dancing alone
in the solemn darkness
practicing a whisper
he will never hear.
MoonlitWalk MoonlitWalk
13-15
Nov 28, 2012