No grecian urn nor sculpted monument
can live beyond the realms of space and time
But in these lines of skilled form and content
you will live on, the centre of my rhyme.
Ozymandias, mighty king of kings,
colossal statue turned to desert sand
Yet, Shelley’s verse awoke these lifeless things
immortalised this man from antique land.
Both clock and scythe circle with the seasons
We cannot escape Fortune’s deadly wheel
None are free from Nature’s laws and reasons
Yet. in this verse you are divine and real
Your beauty and worth forgotten never
You will live in this poem forever.

Flutter flutter
little bird.
Flutter flutter
little thing.

Hush and listen
to this song I sing.
Good health and good fortune
to you,
it will bring.

So flutter little bird
flutter to me oh precious one.
Listen to this song that I will sing,
listen to my song
the song of the stars.

“Are the stars in the sky,
like you and I?
Do they flutter
or do they fly?
Do they shed their shining feathers
and make their nests out of
sticks and heather?
Do they sing sweet songs
or forgive each other
of all slights and wrongs?
Are the stars like you and me?
Can they soar in the air
so high and so free?
Can they loop and swing
flip or sing?
Or,
are they just stars?”

So flutter little bird
flutter little thing,
and don't forget a word
of the song that I sing.