Beige cement beneath my feet, I walked against the breeze.
Silence was my song,
And it was violently overplayed.
Suddenly, a melody caught my attention,
I turned my head to find a cardinal,
All dressed up in her Sunday best,
Lying in the emerald grass.
I took a step towards her
And she pushed away,
Then whipped her scarlet head around her body,
And stared at me
In blind fascination.
Upon arrival I discovered
Her crimson coat
Had hidden the blood
Rushing out of her broken wing.
I nurtured her as best I could,
Avoiding her injury as I took care of her,
I would incidentally brush against a sore spot,
And in those times she ran as fast as she could.
She would always return
To find me waiting patiently ready to give her aid.
Slowly, her song replaced the silence,
And as I held her in my heart,
She sung color into my concrete world.
But one day, her wing was well enough to fly.
She took off
I sat and waited for her to return as I had so many times before.
She never did.
And so she drifts with the breeze
Until her wing gives out once more,
And she finds a new stranger to tend to what can never be fixed.