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So What Has Become Of The Yard Bird?
The wind and the rain gather you.
Like petals on a rain storm
So what has become of the yard bird?
That stirred the captive rainbows
To your and my finger tips
What has become of the rose?
That danced off her dew wet shadows
And sang adjacent the jasmine stars
Sweetly scented at the first cut of hay
That lay in sobrieties corn circles
That lay in bed on this coarse way
A filly jumping over any such hurdles
Whatever happened to us…?
When did you slip through my fingers?
Like a broken rainbow
Like a rose long cut
No fresh water can ever save anymore…
Oh when did these chard's take thorn?
Was it something I done sadly wrong?
Like an overzealous gardener
Did I prune you're rambling ways too soon.
What has become of the rose?
That danced off her dew wet shadows
And sang adjacent the jasmine stars
Sweetly scented at the first cut of hay
That lay in sobrieties corn circles
That lay in bed on this coarse way
A filly jumping over any such hurdles
Whatever happened to my love to us…?
So what has become of the yard bird?
My pretty yard bird today…?
poem
by
Mark Heathcote
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