What I Forgot to Say

The bird worth two.

The Bird Worth Two.

You were the bird in my hand,

with the song of a robin,

the feathers of a blue jay.

I saw you glide through the sky,

my graceful, elegant swan.

You were the bird in my hand;

I proudly carried you on my arm.

I'm just a worm in the ground to you,

lost, wounded, an open target.

But you spared me from my loneliness.

You were the bird in my hand,

and yet others questioned you.

"What kind of bird are you?" They'd say.

A mix of several birds; you have many instincts.

And I loved you despite it all -hold me close.

You were the bird in my hand,

but did the two in the bush appeal to me more?

Did their foreign calls lure me to the shrub?

Now, my hands are empty.

Where did you fly away to?

You were the bird in my hand.

Everyday I turn to the skies to find your wings,

lean into the shrubs for your calls.

Fly back to me, why go south?

It's still summertime in my heart.

-EPS