A poem from the point of view of the last surviving bird in the world.
I float on wings of turbid misery,
Searching for an identity lost to time,
Unacknowledged this golden melody,
Decays into annoying rhythm and rhyme,
.
If a tree falls in a forest and,
No one hears – did it ever happen?
My existence like grains of sand,
Slowly escaping me, a fate misshapen,
.
I remember times when empty nests,
Only meant that the Sun was still out,
In eerie silence, this City now rests,
No stray feathers cast a definite doubt,
.
Only henpecked husbands in city squares,
And babbling birdbrains on street corners,
A raucous reminder of my missing heirs,
I see order in chaos, peace in disorder,
.
Vacant thermals akin to a kiteless sky,
On a warm, Saturday afternoon,
In self pity, time has passed me by,
It’s no secret that this is to end soon,
.
A final swansong – please hear me out,
I too feel lonely in the company of people,
You desperately need a purpose – you shout,
Complicating a life that needs to be lived simple,
.
So while I have no audience, no spectator,
It’s Time that I’ve choose to entertain,
Gathering fish scales and teeth from a gator,
A fake dinosaur for the next gen to ascertain,
.
The good is oft interred in our bones,
So I fear nothing and take no moral high ground,
A wallpaper I’ll be on your appendage phones,
To live in your digital memory, I’m duty bound,
.
The pain had died down quietly,
It didn’t squeal or put up a fight,
Amused that they believed me so easily,
I settled down for one last night.
AFFLATUS 