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Poetry: Young Tom's Songs



Sing to the queens
Whose seductive calls, loud feline yowls
And scents drift, pleasing and teasing, past the screens

Sing to the mice
Who venture in where warmth’s within
To become a tempting, temporary, timorous, tasty toy

Sing to the birds
Whose appealing shapes spotted past the drapes
Twitter and tease in safety--he can’t pounce through pesky glass

Sing to the toys
Stored silent and still in the attic’s chill
At least he can set his teeth in their pelts when he wants to

Sing to the girl
Whose teenage hands tend books and pens
When they should be caressing his sides, and ears, and chin

Sing to the hands
That toss tasty fare high in the air
To be captured and scattered and chased and slain

Sing to the bed
Where he can lay curled and dream of a world
Where pats and beasts, critters and treats always appear when he sings.

copyright 2010 Deirdre M. Murphy


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wyld_dandelyon
Jan. 22nd, 2010 01:19 am (UTC)
I have been, but not right now. I'm sure I would benefit from finding a regular beta reader, though so far the stuff I've passed before a group didn't get published, and some that I didn't has.

Have I ever mentioned that I do things backwards a lot?

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