Sharing Wing Birds

A moon the colour of sorrow. Rain falling like regret. The memory of your beauty awakened by the music tiptoes on moonlit feet slowly silently across the lawn. A cat (immune to human emotion) yawns silhouetted against an Autumn moon. He listens to our human words more out of boredom than anything else as if we were characters in a play enacting words that will be forever spoken: “Let us be sharing wing birds ...the thing of legend... with only one eye only one wing only by sharing wings can we fly! ” Chiselled into a night gone by the words remain engraved upon the air. The cat wonders how do humans do that ...& why? He pads quietly through the words the memory of us bristling his fur.