Song Bird

I am a shaky song bird.
I have an uncontrollable passion, and my thinking is battered.
A song sung late at night when no one is listening for it.
I whistle my longing tune.
Only a few have heard.
Mostly thiefs and strangers going about their shady business.

The notes that wind, loop through my absent mind.
I am only a shaky song bird,
and only a few have heard my longing tune.
My friend the moon, and her army of stars, at times prove bothersome.
For they stifle my high notes with blackness, and lighten my low notes with brightness.
And who can sing a longing tune at day break?

When yellow lights are painted, I find myself dreaming again of loneliness,
and the quiet that it provides.