That Bird - Again, And Again

 I posted it here a while ago

It was about a bird back then

It told how sad so, so sad, so

Sad I am now, and was then, and when

I saw what I had done

It was so sad, so bad

It was so opposite of the fun

That I had thought I was going to have

When I got my first kill

The result of my animal desire to fulfill

For no reason that I can tell

A blood count that seemed the will

Of some hunter being in charge

Of all things both small and large

Of what I would and what I did

But I was a kid

I guess I was; I hope I was; if I wasn't

A kid, how could I live with what I did?

Today on the porch a beautiful bird lay dead

A varied thrush; it crashed to the window of the door

Probably brought up in a fatally joyous soar

And crushed its head

And lay dead

At the door

All I could do was to cry

And cry

And I still do

Cry

For that bird

And the bird from my youth

Because in truth

I can't forget

Ever forget

That bird