The strangest melody came
'Cross the trees.
Into those dark woods,
Where the Raven hung in green.
Drifting on that tune,
The Raven found the blue
Of the sole Bluejay
Aloft and lonely too.
But not for long, really--
A violet Starling fell into.
And this began a harmony,
Unknown purity that grew and grew.
Beholden of the heavenly,
The black Raven watched afar,
Wishing for eternity, which dreams...seldom are.
Soon the Starling flew away,
And the Bluejay
Recited once again the next day,
Till quieted, and no more.
Sat back still, the Raven saw,
Then searched for the brightest purple feathers.
Plucked out its own to replicate;
It loved that color anyway.
But the Bluejay would never sing
The song it did with that Starling.
And the Raven could only caw,
While its black feathers wore away.
But to the Raven's canopy
Had come
The Bluejay.
I tried to use more imagery and analogy lately. The “short story” format’s narrative is pretty obvious. It was fun to write.
