A fluffy-feathered bird, small, <br />to some a picture of <br />great loveliness <br />and rarest beauty <br />perched on a twig called hope <br />precariously above <br />a vulgar world so far below <br />ignoring pointing fingers <br />and their lusty expectations <br />of faith in true catastrophe <br />began to sing. <br /> <br />She sang the most exquisite song, <br />a melody of sweet HELLO, <br />of hands that long <br />to touch and hold in warmth <br />the promise of just being there, <br />without the fanciful and vain <br />and, oh so plastic decorations. <br />The twig soon resonated sounds <br />and gained in strength, <br />it would not bend or crack <br />though its fragility was plain <br />for all to see. <br /> <br />There was an ancient force <br />called by the soothing sounds, <br />it beckoned to the one <br />whose scruffy, feathered ears <br />were listening from far away <br />until all time and distance were, <br />suspended, once again. <br /> <br />The little twig soon carried two, <br />as kindred spirits, <br />birds of so many feathers <br />and their tears.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-my-little-t-cell/
