Like the birds in early February
flock to the budding willow tree,
boughs bent by frost,
fighting to the last,
I flew to you,
my love.

And like a fool
I tried to renew
the irredeemable price
of the love we had lost
and tried to repair
bridges that burned,
all the while,
beneath my feet.

If you remember one thing,
love,
remember this:

Somewhere in the stillness
of a million universes
we are a song
sung by a thousand voices.
But not here in this land
of broken-down places
and impossible choices
among the things that broke us.
My love, my love,
if only you had believed.

Notes on “Like the Birds in Early February”

People throughout the ages have sung songs of unrequited love — and loved them — and I am no different! Here is a sad love poem, perhaps not fit for your valentine this February, but I hope that it’s given you solace in this modern age, which sometimes feels loveless. And not for lack of trying. I’m writing to you in the throes of a migraine headache, so hopefully I’m not rambling too much. Let me know what you think of this poem in the comments, or chat to me about anything. If you’re interested in more info about my February 2021 14 Poems of Love project, check out the intro. For another sad love poem, try my sonnet “Summer Love.”

Looking to support Voyage of the Mind? Check out our Ko-fi page, where you can donate! Plus, I’m a (self) published author of a short story and poetry collection, Metamorphosis, which you can take a look at on Amazon. It’s racked up some pretty sweet reviews!

Photos for this post were sourced from Unsplash, and designs were created on Canva.

Read the next poem of love — 14 Poems of Love No. 10 / Divide Me Up Like Loot

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