Birds.

By Stefani Scissorhands

I awaken to the chorus of cardinals and wrens,
I watch them dance on aged oak branches.
Oh, how they dance and sing for me!

I go into his room and put his bathrobe on,
I tie the strings around my waist,
I wonder if he feels me hugging him.

In the living room his son is fast asleep,
A loon carved from cedar cradled to his chest,
I think he’s pretending that he’s hugging you.

In the hall, I hear his voice.
In my dreams, I see his face.
In my heart, he will always live.



This is something I wrote for my dad after he passed away.

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Birds.

Created: Jul 01, 2010

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