Little Bird (Male POV) | Poetry

Little bird

In her youth, she gleams so bright,
A spirit free, her mind's creative flight.
Yet she's unlike others, young in age,
An old soul, craving freedom's stage.

In a world of hollow, she seeks solace deep,
Deserving more than I, her soul to keep.
What could I offer this gem so rare?
Diverse we are, yet equal in our shared air.

Under the same stars, our paths were cast,
Though decades apart, our love steadfast.
She, the dream of my nights long,
Before love's meaning to me belonged.

In pursuit of love, mistakes I've made,
Yet for you, my dear, my heart forbade.
I should have been more attentive, more wise,
But your presence sought, to my surprise.

Now here you stand, willing to forsake all,
To be with me, to heed love's call.
Yet undeserving, I feel, of your grace,
"You're worthy," she insists, with radiant face.

Her past behind, mine fades away,
For in her arms, my solace lay.
No wealth compares to this love divine,
Whispering sweet nothings, her hand in mine.

Every night, I kiss her tenderly,
Grateful for the wait, for now we're free.
For no treasure, no riches, can ever compare,
To the joy of having my little bird there.