LXII. The Bleeding Swallow
Sept. 20, 7:16 PM
Thinking about
all the silly things
us swallows remember
from our nightly dreams,
I wondered and pondered
how would it feel
to love with the love
that spring seems to bring?
So I ventured down
to the blossomed meadows
and flew low over seas
of colorful petals
until I found
what I thought to be
the most wonderful flower
I had ever seen.
Its gown was crimson,
its perfume was sweet
and in a single instant
I was drawn to it.
I pressed myself
to her tender caress
and felt its piercing love
sinking on my flesh.
“I’m sorry.”, she said,
with not much pity on her tone,
“I was just made this way”
So dazed and hurt I flew away
to try my luck elsewhere.
I passed over towns and cities,
flew by many a windowsill,
but none of those strange animals
seemed to feel what I called love.
The sun fell in slumber deep
and the moon began its nightly chores.
I grew tired and somewhat cold
but a beaconing light saw
shinning of the cosy window
of a small, country home.
The brightness turned out to be a fire
which burnt happily on the hearth
so I approached it, wings wide open
seeking its comforting warmth.
At once my wings were set alight
while faintly through my pain I heard
its sincere apology,
he should have warned me that it was
just the way he had been made.
And as my charred and blistered skin
begged for some small act of kindness,
a gentle hand picked my aching body
from the hard, wooden floor
and gently thrust it outside
into the freezing cold
to die in that clear and starry springtime night
which I thought so full of love.
Comments, you know the drill, down below.
XoXo.
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