The finch, awaiting the morning sunrise
lifts its beak in proud anticipation.
Darkness. The sun has forgotten to rise.
The finch waits for it in desperation.
To sing, to wake the world in glory’s song!
Why night, but for the finch to greet the day?
But dawn forgot to come; something is wrong.
The finch is lost, hopefulness fades away.
The sun causes the song of spirit freed,
his morning song in praise of all beloved!
The finch had grown accustomed to this need.
He’d never had to miss being so loved.
The finch misses the only thing he knew,
yet missing dawn less than I’m missing you.
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No time or space for any other thought,
My heart preoccupied with love for you,
I draw upon those lessons I’ve been taught,
To no avail because this love is new.
I failed each time love was an obsession,
When dreams made me sleepwalk throughout the day,
When hope was my substitute possession.
Shall this love come to pass another way?
What ideas have I missed since we met?
What sights unseen since I first laid my eyes?
I shall not love a little less, and yet,
Each time I love with all my heart it dies.
To love you with more than I have’s a must,
To you this weary heart I shall entrust.
— The End —