When I

When I dance,
its with the butterfly
fluttering in
the morning air
zig-zagging with the music of the dawn.

When I laugh,
it's with the dead leaves
gliding in
the Harmattan
as they rustle and frolic in a flock.

When I sing,
it's with the songbird
whistling through
the frigid night
of things that move his little heart.

But when I cry, I cry alone,
and wait until,
the clouds give way,
and the butterfly, songbird, leaves
come out to play.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: I'm not sure how well the title works. :-/ Harmattan - one of two seasons experienced in sub-saharan Africa (the other being the Rainy Season). It is a dry and dusty season caused by the trade winds that come from the North East, blowing over the Sahara to the south.

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft