She has no name.
Whose song is sweet.
She has no blame.
She sings the song,
And out it goes.
And as it fly’s
To where? Who knows?
A mocking bird’s reply
Repeats the words that she has said
With no emotion
As if were dead.
She sings again
Into the wind.
An echo’s sound
The words come ‘round.
They sing this time
A breath a word.
A melody,
A stomping herd.
The bird is gone
And sings her song.
And out it goes
To where? Who knows?
She stands alone
And sings her song.
Longing for the
One who’s gone.
The bird returns
And sings a tune.
Of shooting stars
And bright blue moon.
She listens with
Attentive ear.
This song is sweet
The tune is dear.
Ah, now she knows.
He sang to her
This song she’s heard.
Together they were.
Morning flowers,
Rolling hills,
They skipped along
They had their will.
They were young
And both were sweet
Said farewell
Until they’d meet.
Their paths parted.
And years rolled by.
She stood there waiting.
Tears in her eye.
He never came.
Would he stand true?
Promised
“I’ll come back for you.”
It couldn't be.
It was a lie.
It wasn’t him.
And if, then why?
The bird’s reply
A calming tune
He sang the song
Of bright blue moon.
She sang her song
And sang they both
A stringed duet
Childhood oath.
The bird flew far
And run she did
And as she fell
Its path was hid.
He came to her
And took her hand
Sang a song
From a far-off land.
She sang along
A stringed duet
A memory
Of how they’d met.
She was a girl.
She had no name.
Her song was sweet.
She had no blame.
Shooting stars
Up above and
Bright blue moon.
She felt unloved.
She sang her lonely song.
He came to her
And held her hand.
His love, the cure.
Photograph by Betsy
Photograph by Ben
Photographs by Betsy
Photographs by Betsy
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