Her Swan Song Poem by Gautami Phookan

'You are a lovely singing bird outside my window. I open my window and you become a flower scent and a breeze that passes through my hair.'

... Spun from the dark clouds from the night before
I sweep away those cobwebs in the light of dawn.
And I ask, 'When will it be spring again? '
As a displeased Winter snows o'er the hedges
And flake after flake they fall upon...

Wish I could unpin my heedless heart.
It has no wisdom to feign,
A daughter of the wind in gloam, as those windflowers
That sail in the breeze and they never be home.

A spirit withered and leafless, draped by the icy winds,
And dried up tears underneath the boughs,
Those eyes once shimmered with flaming tints of gold...
The hidden woodlands whispered to the south wind
Of a breath ephemeral that pierced the heart of stone.

As he skimmed o'er the roughen'd edges
Of autumnal lands never been trod upon,
A new life is born from the silken disarray,
And he brushed away the wrinkles unaware
That she was singing to him her swan song.