Rest

[tommyhawk]

Rest
colorful fruit
sweet
subtle in mourning

To those the call was heard
Though your taste has flavored too few lips. . .

taste
like a rose is pungent
you were a whisper and a roar

Like a broke wing bird
too hindered to soar

Sitting bird
Sing a song of sweetness
Sing a song for the fruit so strange

Sweetest fruit
Pure on the forbidden tree

the bird's song
flows to me
mournful in subjected scorn

Pruned like dryness
subtle angst
Is the song sung for the strange sweet fruit
--- Tom G 3/8/2005