Her Nightingale

Her nightingale
could sing. The bird
opened its heart and sang freely. 

Her nightingale did not fly,

the bird didn't know it could.

She shared her nightingale with you;

you carried it away, up a mountain,

higher than it had ever been. 

Then you dropped it. 

Her nightingale fell.

Before it struck the ground,

the bird spread its wings and soared. 

"Come back," you called to the bird, 

but her nightingale was gone. 

You showed her bird how to fly,

but you let it fall first. Now the bird
is flying, it won't sing. It won't return
to you. Or her. The bird is still silently
in flight. It's gone she has nothing left 

to offer you. You took

her nightingale.