by L D Redmond

Created on: December 28, 2009

Forgotten song.

I watch her from a distance
There she sits, upon the hill
Silhouetted against the dying sun.
Whatever happened to their existence?
Whoever caused their blood to spill?
And now, what is done is done.

On the rise her head lifts
The breeze takes the howl adrift
As she cries, for the life of her pack.
The mournful sound of loss and grief
Is carried upon rustling leaves.
For what is done, is done
And there's no going back.

For a moment, in the Golden haze
She sees me from where I stand
And from the depths of my heart I feel her pain.
With pride she holds my gaze.
Her Forgotten song goes unheard to some.
But I hear her all the same.

I close my eyes.
Her words are soft and wise.
One single tear adorns my cheek,
As she finds the words she wants to speak,
She tells me the story of the Forgotten Song.

With that, she appears before me
No longer is she upon the hill I see.
I reach down to touch her,
She is not real
But I feel the warmth and life in her fur.

She allowed me this moment of insight
Before she fled back to the night.
And suddenly,
Under my fingers was no longer the softness of her fur
But just the gentle spirit of her
And of the Forgotten Song.
For what is done, is done.

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