As I sit here, I wait for her
I make new promises
I am confident
She is my solace
The bird with feathers of red autumn
Her tune, marked by joy, is sweet
I hear her blithe symphony
In the park benches, in the hymn of leaves
While beauty is found
In this faded old memory
In the end
Change arrives like an old friend
Once wintry chill arrives
The park turns still
And she is not there
A breeze stirs the sleeping flowers