Bluebird
It was just a clear spring morning,
when I awoke.
I ran to my window, and looked
upon the tree, and
there was a bluebird, staring at me.
As fast as I could, I ran for the tree,
but when I got there, he'd climbed,
higher from me.
I climbed to the top, so careful,
and slow.
There we both sat, neither daring to move.
I looked at him, yet he wouldn't at me.
As I reached for him, he was further away.
A tear rolled down my cheek,
for the bluebird I'd wanted,
had tried to fly.
It broke my heart, for when
I looked down,
There lay my pretty Bluebird,
silent upon the cool ground.
Copyright © Carla Cox | Year Posted 2006
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