strigiformes

I’ve flown on frayed feathers
Carrying handwritten letters
Sealed by hot wax
Postcards, acceptances,
Rejections
Love letters
I’ve seen them all
But never addressed to me
Not to me, not for me
Only for me
To deliver
Through forests
Past rivers
I endure storms
To make next-day delivery
I avoid interaction
To ensure the utmost quality
Until I tap on glass windows
Who- who- who–
Whoooooooooooo
Who’s there?
Why, it’s me
Who else would it be
Tapping on your second-story window
I wouldn’t know
I have caught countess scents
Of cologne and perfume
On paper
But I have never
Had the pleasure
Of opening
Envelopes
Does it show
Look at my papercut talons
And know
Not all creatures
Will ever
Know of
Romantic nature

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s