I'm alone at my desk, while I open these letters.
Once a task my love shared, when we were together.
I glimpsed out my window, as something fell to the ground.
Was a sweet little song bird, with breast colored brown.
She sang her love songs, with the sweetest refrain.
Then flew to my window, just outside the pain.
She whistled, and sang, she hopped right along.
Begging for notice, to her little love song.
I worked on intently, I was blind to her play.
Until from neglect, she then fluttered away.
Now I miss that little birds, sweet song of love.
That she'd brought as a gift, from high up above.
Frowning at the silence, and this pile of my bills.
How I'd ignored her attempts, to ease all my ills.
Why did I not 'STOP', just to listen back then?
To focused on this nothing, to let her love in.
I had this tiny cold heart, and I sadly worked on.
Sensing only her absence, once she truly was gone.