The Bird
I imagined a red bird on a shallow branch
A fleeting glance that never was there
But the bay of my mind still remains enthralled
With the memory clear and true
It’s a dream that never was
A mere illusion of my mind
And yet the fictional creation
Still holds itself up in my thoughts
Now months from when those words above
First flew through the world of my creation
I see that old red bird
At first glance it’s standing on the ground
At second, it flits amongst my grandmother’s tree
And when I take my final glance
I see it fly towards the ground
A cardinal in the flesh
A sign of hope
A call to persevere
A fourth time is not needed
To confirm the truth of the bird
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