If I were a bush
in this room
when you arrive you’ll be
a huge flock of
little finches
and instead of doodles
on the paper
in this room
while I wait
I would intertwine my branches
in dance poses
and blue flowers
of sugar water
I would bloom
among my leaves
If it was sunset
in this room
in which I wait
you would arrive
like a long disorderly flight
and you’d land
with fluttering wings
on spindly branches
which would swing
among the leaves
which would shiver
if you were a flock
and I a bush
If it was night
in this room
and I was a bush
you, flock of finches
in this room
amidst the branches of the bush
that I would be
you’d come to sleep
and with tiny songs
I’d lull you
with the scent
of flowers
and music
from the playing leaves
blowing in the winds.
And then
if it would be dawn in this room
where I wait
if it would be dawn
and I a bush
and you a huge flock
of little finches
many thin voices
would sing
before you fly away
towards your morning flights.

 © Anna Lemos 

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