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Autumn Leaves

volume 5 number 6

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Skyward

by Morfydd Ceridwen

The words are lost in translation;
spoken in a tongue not used by mouth
but beaten in the pulse and thump
of our music.

You are the note that lingers;
rising beyond the confines
of skin that my hand touches

Too afraid to fly, I can only watch
as you unfold wings of your own making;
draining the landscape of colour
as you reach skyward,
using my breath as your freedom.

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Copyright © 2001, Morfydd Ceridwen, all rights reserved.
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