by Lauren Withrow
.
A small bird sang to me
when I was just a child.
She named me Skybird and, from her,
I learned to love the wild.
She taught me how to understand
the meaning of her song.
She sent other birds to guide me
after she was gone.
All my life, these visitors
have sung my mornings in.
When sad, it often was their song
that helped me to begin.
I've listened to these small messengers
my whole life long.
At the end, she promised me
I'll hear a skybird's song.
Beautiful story, Sherry . . . :)
ReplyDeleteWow. Beautiful. I can nearly hear the birds.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem and story Sherry! I can almost hear the skybird song! There is a gentle strength and wisdom the birds know. So glad you joined us Sherry!
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and I can picture the little songbird singing to you.
ReplyDeleteMy new favorite. This is an exquisite history, kept simple as a bird whistled lyric in a song.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSO beautiful Sherry. How I would love a skybird's song!
ReplyDeleteWhat would be more beautiful than I skybird's song!
ReplyDeleteWhy Sherry, you're just a rhyming fool! Lovely, my friend.
ReplyDelete