Nice

Calliope's Lyre

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Nightingale

I’d settled on my porch today,
A book held languidly,
Watching the twilight approach,
Thoughts roaming aimlessly

When from nowhere a rustling came
A keening,painful sound,
And just ahead of where I sat
A bird fell to the ground.

I got up and I ran to her,
Poor wounded wee birdie,
As carefully I picked her up
Her eyelids closed gently.

I spoke to her in calming words,
And stroked her silky frill,
She blinked twice and trilled! Thank God!!
And then, then she was still.

I panicked and I hurried in,
Tried to revive her- no,
She would not drink, she would not stir,
Her life had ceased to flow..

I cradled her and yes, I wept,
Tho I didn’t quite know why,
Her passing had taken from me
Something unidentified…

Unwell met and too soon gone!
Acquaintance of merest sort..
Oh beautiful black…

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