I wrote this while watching Dickinson season 3. When I watched season 1 and 2, I was going through what might be a block. While I enjoyed the poems, I didn't create any. But this season, my words are back so this came out.
Take a look.
Hope is like a bird
A thing with feathers
And blindingly beautiful colours
Flapping in rhythm
Mouth chirping as it flies
It's like love
The slender fingers of lovers
Entwined in peace and passion
Words unspoken yet understood
Feelings always on the surface
It's also exhausting
Like having little children
Feeding them, clothing them
Or waiting for a new born to come
Wishing it happens the day you want
I'd stick with birds and love
Maybe a little nature and quiet
The steps are easier that way
More accepting and brighter
Almost like a perfect world.
