In the birdhouse I built,
The youngling flies off for the first time
Looking back
With hope for you
I whispered your name
I wanted nothing more than the world for you,
So much,
I invented new ones.
We made moons at the cliff
In a word of spoken poetry.
The rivers split
And we became found.
I caught all the petals in the wind
To recreate a flower.
I taught you how to fly,
And you became a bird.
I'm just an old fool
Who pieces together
The broken heart.