~Shades of Gold~

~My Nightingale Sing for Me~

Their beautiful euphony,
My mind worries ruefully.
Their beaks, the gateway to their song;
That song that they release, may it be strong.

They're a pretty little bird,
They let their song be heard.
Let the song travel over the lands,
Let the song guide my willful hands.

My little home is of a place;
A place in its own scenery's embrace.
The trees are calm and still,
Upon that humble little hill.

For every dawn and every dusk,
The Nightingales sing, they busk.
But there is this single bird,
It has never spoken a word.

That delicate little bird is always alone,
Very little happiness has it shown.
Even in the day's summer heat,
The little bird sits, not even a tweet.

At night, the Nightingales sing and dance,
Without light, with even the slightest chance,
They sing and call a dancing song of clarity,
As I watched and listened, eyes full of hilarity.

I tend to my duties,
As I hear my beauties.
The birds dance and sing,
Feathers glistening upon a wing.

The love I give my beautiful little birds,
Can not be a form or song with words.
For I ever so enjoy their song of bliss,
Their pretty song, one can not miss.

So, I beg that pretty little bird of no word,
I beg its bright song to not go unheard.
For the bird has such a sweet vocal song.
That little bird must be sweet yet strong.

So now I sing for you;
You are ever so new.
You, my little brown Nightingale of still,
I do believe you should sing while I till.

I want to hear your song from your heart,
Do not let your passion and my longing part.
For you must sing for me a sweet tune,
In the blazing heat of this mid afternoon.

Come rain, Come sun,
Your song has just begun.
You open your beak to a shrill call,
Little bird, I shall not let you fall.

You sing your song to your heart's delight,
Your soft song shall not die within the night.
For your tune has lulled me to a peaceful slumber,
My back sore from the day's worthy encumber.

I smile at you, for you are now singing loud,
Your sorrow replaced with thoughts of proud.
You sit upon your mighty perch,
As I climb the hill to my church.

I know you're there,
I am quite aware;
My pretty bird, sing your song,
Let your beauty be lifelong.

My Nightingale, My sweet bird of night,
My pretty bird, please sing, dark or light!
I miss your lively sounds,
As I make my daily rounds.

Then, I found you,
This can't be true.
You now guard a nest of eggs,
It's your offspring who now begs.

I thank you, pretty bird,
Let your children be heard.
You stop your song for your young,
Now, with them, your song is sung.

For I beg you, Nightingale, to sing,
The birds may call you their king.
So will you, My Nightingale, Sing for Me?
Let your voice, little bird, be forever free.

Nightingale, My Nightingale, Sing for Me.
Sing to me on your blooming tree.
My Nightingale, sing your sweet song,
This is where you truly belong.