last candle flame is writing its tragedy in the wind
as the piano keys are gathering sorrow
it takes just a few notes for your heart to evoke memories
torn open by memorable valentine days'
the night has a way of making our wounds bleed
it's the notes which connect the wires of our minds
and our songs are just poetry books never read
it's the answers you wouldn't pick
-- life takes its toll on everyone
it's the poison we hide in flowers
-- feel alone in the land that grounds us
it's the laugh that only lonesome people share
-- fake happiness is still the worst kindness
we hide our pearls of wisdom in the privacy of the heart
time calls you mad when you're old
forgets your past and questions your tomorrows'
does it take death to teach you living?
what do you regret not teaching your sons and daughters?
it takes just a few notes for you to question
if you showed enough love for you to peacefully part
and from the ashes, alongside smoke, it's your image
that keeps on arising
Note on the side: There have been a few times that I actually buried a bird. I've found them around the house, all looked very peaceful, especially this one in the photo. And I like birds too much to leave them for some vulture to find them. And I also read that birds hold "funerals" for dead, here's the link.