Sonnet Four Poem by Vicente Dominguez

And she had skin fair and ghostly. 
Cold and away that I could not touch. 
Heard I did, day and night mostly
Her silken call that I dared not hush. 

Though closer and nearer I wanted to be. 
She pretended not to call. 
Still I knew she wanted me. 
We'd comfort each other all fall. 

I sang her my songs, as she inspired the melodies. 
And now and again she'd make her voice heard. 
When she played her loot my sadness was remedied. 
I decided to call her my little bird. 

My bird she did sing, but never did say. 
What it was she was hoping for. 
After that fall she did go away. 
Yet the song in my heart says that we both wanted more.