Winter’s bird

She perches on my old roots
and pecks another dead worm.
“Keep looking at the stars”, she shouts.
“Pain always soothes, if you wait”.

As we talk, two more red flowers fall
and bury themselves deep in my roots.
How many more sons should I bury?
How many more daughters yet to fall?

Will you stay my little bird?
You know I’m an old tree.I can’t fly.
My roots go deep. I can’t seek new skies.
Will you stay my little bird?

I have seen a million flowers fall
a million goodbyes, they can’t hurt me anymore.
But if you stay my little bird
you can destroy my soul with happiness.

It takes courage to ask that question.
It takes courage to hear a ‘no’.
I puff up my old trunk, ready to ask.
I lift my branches to heaven, pleading a little ‘yes’.

My open mouth freezes still, teeth shaking
the first winter wind just gave me a shiver
“Its winter my little bird,
your yellow feathers ready to fall.”

You gave me that final glance
asking for the nod to take flight.
Unasked, the question burns in my throat
I shout: “Fly my little bird. Your homeland is calling you… ”


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