Her image would blow your mind
Permanently bend
Letting her man to rest at her back
She twists her neck
To send him the kiss of smile
Perched on the branch
She tries to howl
Then risen arms transform her into an owl
Her image would blow you out
And all those colors she wears in her feather- hair
She flies above the bridge
To concur with the wind
Dancing at her home
Over the head
Waving
She's no regret
Strong as a stone
She leaves her cave covered with moss
To roam
Roam
Beyond the time
Her image would blow your irises
Into pieces
As she bows to the Grace
There's a reflection of pastel face in the veins of mine
Like a blood
That runs my vessels through and through
The blue Parrot Woman
Dressed up in fur
And gold
She shed her tears into Angels' ears
As I was told...
On the cold winter frosty mornings
She dared to share her coffee
With God
And baby birds she put to sleep
Into the sleeve of violet night
Embraced they felt as if the parrot' wings
Were lain
Cuddling their brains tight
Her image would blow the apples of your eyes
Today she's back and swings
With the wind
As her feathers and her hair
Amongst the shelves
And clocks she walks
As time is ticking over the place
Overgrown with dust
Like us
She ties herself up with a thread
To a chair
Throne alike
And puts enamel over her nails
Her image blows the dust away
She wears the laces
Cashmere and
Silk...
Me - made of feathers
Me - torn as skies into pieces of golden stars
Me - bathed in her milk...
Dedicated to my Mother
Ps. There are people and things
That you can reach for
But you not always catch them...
