not just a season

A duck I saw with brittle bones
A tail I found in an empty sink
Never have I saw a flying pig

I’m no longer content being alone
The day I saw her it made me think
No I won’t get fat or smoke a cig

Walking along balancing on cones
I could always do with more ink,
Watching the little ants dig

Heaven I found but not on my own
Tantalising it may be but I’m not pink
All I am, but not all a twig

Crashing along
Sitting here alone,
Listening to the birds sing

Conquering the fear
Sighing all the way
Waiting for your heart,
looking back at me

to L. Emma. P.