A Bird Flown'
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Dearest sister, if you are reading this- I have passed on,
will you please have my name and "a poet" engraved upon;
the stone that marks my decaying bones,
where my writing ever moans . . .
though muse is now a sweet bird flown.
Plant me flowers and come often to see how they have grown,
a mortal, bird now sings in all seasons from the trees up above.
Sister, could you set my words free with love?
Take them to a mountain top and let them soar and drift.
My last words- "Time on earth was so beautiful but too swift."
_____________________________
June 30, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/'A Bird Flown'
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1121-417-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Standard Contest 570,
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2019
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