Birdwatching Mends The Soul

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Birdwatching mends the soul

Brought to my heart the magic place of sympathy;

Awaits the eternal welcome of their sake.

Light like a mighty memory across the night;

Held by the magic of a memory of life;

She beheld thee down the sleeping on her table,

Rose a sweet smile of memory through the night,

Ilis secret pity and a filial love,

Almost like a lily, with a little smile,

Ever with a smile I behold in my dreams,

Drifted upon the same morning star of summer,

Even though the petals of our faded hours

Spring is a lilting melody across the world,

Wrought by the interplay of my own desire;

Behind the purple and a mystic place of night,

Black auguries, but toward the consecrated clay,

High over the rim of the horizon of eyes,

A woman passes solitaire within the wood!

Were ironic tools in the silent ultimate.

Blue as a graceful crown, a graceful grandmother,

Mourned the dire habitation, and required

Drifted upon a lesson of the Eternal.

Light of the precious picture of the only care,

We speak no language for our native language,

Another treasured picture held a little while.

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