Friday Poem


There are songbirds
That live near-by
Whom I count as friends
& will sing goodbye
When I go down the road
And out of town

To this flock
This I ask
Sing high
Sing low
Continue to swoop, dart
Chase & play
Until you too, must go

No need to follow
My feathery friends
It is okay
This, my fate
Perhaps somewhere
Other songbirds wait.

by Terry McLarnan