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Song Bird

A songbird blasted my senses,
In the early morning light,
Like some ancient cannon fired,
In some long ago war fight,
And at attention stood my eyes,
My ears, my sense of feeling all around,
As an empty tear of all such beauty,
Fell from me, wetting the frozen ground,
And as for what that bird called,
I know not what for or what it did say,
Except perhaps GOOD MORNING!
In its fragile bird-like way,
And upon black wing it began to fly,
To places I’ll still yet never know,
But that bird still holds my memory,
As gentle as the white drifting snow,
 
A song bird blasted my senses,
What it said I do not know,
And as for I, I think I’ll sit here,
A little longer,
Until I too must go,
Upon shaken leg and broken eye,
Building to dust, building to life,
Building to the past, only to show,
That in the early morning,
I really only miss something I lost,
A long, long, time ago...

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