Climbing out of my heart
are drawn out stumbling words,
half-formed, inarticulate little birds.
They are slow and tired
more a cry than a scream:
my heart, it likes to dream.
How do I grow a new self again,
from the ashes of the ruins,
should I stand still in my illusions?
Those wordless little birds,
still straining at their cage,
will find a way to freedom on the page.
And eventually, inarticulate stumbling words,
grow strong roots of truth and power:
a word after a word is the only answer.
Cats and Chocolate 
I adore this, thank you
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Thank you for your lovely comment 🙂
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Lovely!
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Wow. That was deep. It made me think, especially that last verse.
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I liked this, quite a bit. So much that I featured your poem on my blog. Really spoke to me Liz 🙂
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Thank you, thank means a lot 🙂
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Nice page u have..do give my poems a read..hope u like it😊😊
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I like readings poems. And sometimes I write to. But not like you. Awesome 🙂
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I like this. Congratulations from France
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