By Martin Falatic
Written 1997-03-16
Revised 1997-03-19, 2010-08-04

The children spoke in whispers as we strolled along the street,
        laughter hushed among themselves at secrets we may keep.
Along our path we met a crone, stoop'd withered over cane,
        though far in years she eyed us close, a smile quickly came.

We walked out to the meadows, not far from noise of town,
        but otherworldly were our hearts, such solitude surrounds.
I found the lilacs full in bloom, their fragrance strong and bold,
        you watched the springtime flowers giving way to summer's hold.

As we walked we came upon an injured bird along our trail,
        bruised, forlorn, with sad, strained eyes, so powerless and frail.
Instinctively, we bent to help the bird that could not sing,
        to give it something, anything, to warm its shiv'ring wings.

With heavy hearts we held him close, cradled softly in our hands,
        but soon we saw that Nature, in her heart, had other plans.
For that little bird did close his eyes, and left us as we stared,
        our thoughts in quiet agony, two hearts in sad despair.

We laid him deep into the ground, near where we found him first,
        forever to be in the Sun, in warmth not from this earth.
With silent tears we said a prayer to whatever God may be,
        that happy skies and gentle winds this wanderer would see.

We reflected in those hours on that life so fragile, lost...
        how one fine day misfortune comes and steals at tragic cost.
I held you somewhat closer, walking home that twilight eve,
        forever lost in endless love, despite what perils may be.