Terminal Outbreath
——-
You know my sighs, and yet,
I am a stranger to your knowing;
Though not your eyes, which,
Drinking in my flowing,
See me.
——-
As vision sees the fleeting blink,
As petals bid farewell
To the last drop of dawn’s clear ink;
As the young bird triumphs, briefly,
in the uplift of a feathered wing
——-
And even here,
In the stale air of boarded flyers gone,
Of distant vapour’s smell which thrust them on,
Of tiny crumbs where junior sat with mom
——-
My sigh that knows no ears remains to kiss the emptied one
————
©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2015
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Thank you, Sue.
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