bluebird missing outside my window
today I shall shed a tear
and attempt this thing
called poetry
a half a world away
you lived
though I swear you were
next door
scratching out words
for all the world to read
one morning
one day
one night at a time
there comes a time
when the bird no longer
tweets her morning song
and is it then you come to realize
we’re no different from one another
no different than the branch
is to the bough
no different than the song
is to the bird
more melodious than ever
lamenting outside
our southern window
march two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I read this, through my tears, as a visceral response to the events in Christchurch. Thank you for your words and thoughts. My muse has fled in horror.
thanks for commenting on this one friend
I love this, it has beauty birds and trees. What more could any poet want.
Thank you so much, Denise C.
Wonderful write indeed!!
Thank you very much, my friend.
there comes a time
when the bird no longer
tweets her morning song
A poignant metaphor for so many things which have evaporated out of our lives. There is no replacement except for the hopeful promise of new things.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this one, Carl.