Summer Singer

He hopped inside the magical bush,
he looked inside one’s heart.
His voice unfroze the calm and quiet nights,
that crisp, elegant voice,
echoed in the mellow summer nights.
Stars looked for him.
Even with that many of them,
he is nowhere to be seen.
He may be hiding beneath the rocks
Or under the woodpiles. Or somewhere in the meadow.
Who knows?

Chirp, chirp, chirp . . .
There he is!
His wings made a song.
It might be Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
or Mozart’s Waltz.
Always sad, calling for the one.

Loneliness soaked his body.
When will she come?
The desperate thoughts wiggled inside.
Something’s missing . . . No, Someone’s missing.
He’s been calling for her days after days
nights after nights.
Never stop . . . until his voice gets heard.