There is beauty in her.
The way she moves,
Like she’s in a perfect rhythm with the earth.
She hums in sweet sixths with the birds,
While I settle in dissonance,
Lost in the sound.

There is wonder in her;
Her eyes gleam with passion,
and the birds sing, now in thirds.
Meanwhile, I remain in dissonance,
Lost in the sound.

There is fiction in her;
the way she smiles,
and time comes to a halt for a single moment.
She stopped singing,
and the birds mourned the emptiness,
While I stayed in dissonance,
Lost in the sound.

There is loss in her;
The way she flies.
Where did my birds go?
They’ve left their nest.
They left me in silence,
Consonance abandoned.

Honestly, was the sound ever there at all?