There is a gentle creak in the floorboards.
A tender wailing, shhhh.
The gull bows his head in solidarity:
a tender wailing reels in the fish and fishermen alike-
a siren's call will pierce the soul of any who taste of brine and stardust.
Quietly I am creeping up behind the orphaned song
adrift in the night, careless with a purpose- a smooth and shifting beauty:
this silence sings a song so omnificent only the god within can hear.
A slow decent the siren's sonata-
three parts-
be careful not to lose sight of the northern lights dancing in disguise
of your heart's true calling. Take notice
and stretch your wings in solidarity:
the narwhals will carry you home.
There is a gentle creak in the floorboards, a tender wailing,
shhhh.

Jill Sharpe is as young as the moment and as old as the sun living wherever her thoughts may be. She also happens to be 24 years old and residing in Brooklyn, NY. A former stable manager and horseback riding instructor, she now works for an independent record label while pursuing literary, performance, and artistic opportunities. Her first experience with publishing poetry came in the 4th grade and she's never looked back. More of her interests can be found at www.myspace.com/jillesharpe.