Birds of Love and Loss

A Tit-Bird Came A-Calling
A tit-bird came to visit me,
It perched on my windowsill,
She sang of love and friendship true,
She sang of dreams fulfilled.

Her notes were clear like a blue summer sky
When the rain clouds are far away.
She sang the song only lovers can hear,
A melody only they can play.

The tit-bird sang with all her heart,
And never a moment did cease,
For she knew my own was filled with pain
And my leaden spirit sought peace.

Each trill she warbled, each note she sang
Filled me with tenderness,
As I recalled your promises,
And remembered your gentle caress.

And as the shadows began to fall,
She sang me one final tune,
It bore the message you sent to me,
“Soon, my beloved, soon.”

Gentle Like The Dove
Your whispered words, near kisses on my cheek,
Reluctance in every cell, as we wake.
The half smile on lips while yours burst in song,
A mangled love tune amidst shower spray.
“I’m late,” the hurried kiss and yet one more,
A shared sigh, and the promise of... “later.”
Labor interrupted by random thoughts
Of you and me, once single, now coupled,
An odd pairing and yet, comfortably so.
The sleepy question: So, what did you do?
No answer expected, except a smile,
As we end the day the way we began,
Heat and fire are not always the marks of love.
More often, it is gentle... like the dove

The Song of the Whippoorwill
Beads of dew still lay on the grass
When I sent my lover a kiss,
And she sent me a dove that cooed softly above
The swirls of the morning mist.

I will return, my dearest love,
From a thousand leagues away,
I will return, and in your arms,
Forever, I shall stay.

Green bright were the leaves of the banyan tree
When I sent my beloved a song,
And she sent me a sparrow that perched on my arm
Who then whispered, “I cannot stay long.”

I will return, my dearest love,
From a thousand leagues away,
I will return, and from your arms,
I shall never stray.

The winds were whispering to the jasmine leaves
When I sent my true love a ring,
But it ne’er came back and the night shadows fell,
Then I heard the whippoorwill sing:

No truer heart did ever beat
Than that in your dear one’s breast,
And so I sing her final wish:
“Beloved, do not forget.”

Swan Song
One final lament, one last serenade,
A mournful melody sung in tribute
To the ending of life, but more perhaps,
To the lost love swept away by the tide.
The notes die away, her heart beats its last,
A swan song sung in bitter betrayal.