Outside her window a Mockingbird chatters, from staccato, to one long even note, and then even a piercing screech. At first she finds it musical, then amusing. Soon she finds it distracting and annoying. She slams the window shut, craving silence. Mockingbirds use every voice they have to attract a mate.
She listens to her voice mail. Her boyfriend explains his actions and pleads forgiveness. She deletes the message. She removes one of the roses from the vase. She notices its frailty. Its petals, worn and brown along the rim. Flowers never last long. The way she laughed at his coy smile when he gave them now mocks her.
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? It takes for focus and faith to hear the right voice, away, outside her perimeter.
Dversepoets.com prosery is the prompt. The line is “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?” – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”