Blue Tornado
There is a blue tornado in my throat
There is a whirlpool, and its blue,
And it’s whirling and twirling in my throat
~ The buildup of unexpressed songs
spread through the forest floor
of years gone by.
Observations of the silent winged owl
as she waits for the perfect time
to swoop into the visible life;
Delight and outrage,
Abandon and strains for perfection,
Leaps over chasms
And trips over the loose cobblestones
of her heart ~
Her tiger eyes speaking only of freedom,
Fiery eyes of tiger speaking only of home.
There is a spiraling tornado in my throat
And it is blue.
Devastatingly, Gloriously Blue.
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