1971 Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri

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Sonnet V

Winged beauty, little bird, perched upon a branch
Thou hast sung a pitied tune to those who hear
Come to me, sad little bird, alight from off your branch
Try to sing of happy, whistle as you near.
And while your wings are fluttering
My heart will be so muttering;
I have found a love, my friend
Give me your golden whispered joyous song to hear.

I had thought in recent, disappointing times
That I would be enveloped in an unenraptured love
For hours and days I've deepened all my times
And cried to Heaven, waiting for answers from above.

And now the answer's come, at last, to me,
In a form so bright, with open eyes I see.

1971

copyright 2001 by Michael F. Nyiri
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