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