....To Destroy The Mockingbirds Nest

'I feed my young with words from the softest soil
I trouble the old with tales of horror and turmoil'.

Where once we embraced
In both darkness and light
Hearts have now hardened
and our longing lingers between
choice and time.

We turn at the sight of our once
travelled lands
eager, rushing adventerers
now front cold clenched hands.

Yet what binds our pain
is what love once created
concieved in nights of desire
now distanced by our raging fire.

Within the eyes I see happier times
Of man and women at one
In the fleeting moments of our
connecting gazes I see a mirror of regret.

And all the time little fingers
cling onto our trembling hands
Challenging our will.
The creators are drifting
The creations are challenging
Resting baby blonde heads
upon the source of there birth
As He sits beside the window
fearing the destruction of the
mockingbirds nest.

by Not Long Left

Comments (1)

Don't be frightened it's just a natural transition Vincent, the nest will just be reinforced and brought up to date. The greats are always great. I loved your poem and you have a wonderfully enquiring mind, smiling at you, not mocking, Tai