The Winged

Dedicated to Katheryn Mercy Ione Touchstone.  

"Goodbye," Whispers a hush in the wind.

The clouds blowing by, wish they could send,

A lyric so lovely, as the dark night's end.  

A pitter patter of feet, floating down the lane,

Make the flowers think, 

Of tears of summer rain.

Drip drip, they drop, 

Until the echos stop,

And then a hush whispers,

"Goodbye", to the wind.

"The wind is my friend,"

Claims a nightingale, 

Resting it's clevage, 

Upon a forest trail.

"My song I sing, and ring-a-ling,

It's carried away by the unseen string."

A hush deepens in the Great Oak,

The boughs protruding from it's trunk,

Twist and Turn like an old drunk.

And streaming from the Tree's Top,

Whisps of smoke, into the wind, hop.

"Goodbye," Whispers a hush in the wind,

The Black Breasted Sparrow, wishes it could lend,

It's wings to the Caterpillar,

Who's wings have yet to descend.

-Madelaine Irene