My lovers

I found a bird with broken wing,
it could not fly, nor would it sing.
Its eyes seemed full of strong appeal
to come with me that it might heal.

I gave it food and bound its wing,
it could not fly, I heard it sing.
It grew stronger every day,
I loosed its wing, it flew away.

Ungrateful bird, with new-healed wing,
why would you leave? How dare you sing?
I gave you time and home and food,
you left me here alone to brood.

 

I found a bird with broken wing,
it could not fly, nor would it sing.
Its eyes seemed full of strong appeal
to come with me that it might heal.

I gave it food and bound its wing,
it could not fly, nor would it sing.
It would not eat, nor would it heal,
my heart began to turn to steel.

Spiteful bird, with spirit drawn,
I hate your hapless eyes, begone!
There is nothing I can do
will ever be enough for you.

 

I found a bird with broken wing,
it could not fly, nor would it sing.
I walked passed and let it lie
without mercy, there to die.

I fed it not, nor bound its wing.
I did not care to hear it sing.
Of its woe I took no part
and guarded my embittered heart.

Wretched bird, fly from my mind,
I ache that I was so unkind.
Your awful plight I oft recall,
it nourishes my self-appal.

 

I found a bird with broken wing,
it could not fly, nor would it sing.
With it lay another bird
and by them both there lay a third.

Beyond the three there lay a fourth,
and more besides, all bound to earth.
I looked upon a feathered field
full of birds for me to heal.

I could not think where to begin,
was struck by how we were akin.
I looked through tears into the sky,
and wished that all of us could fly.

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