Fly Away

You came with the season as the first swallow sang, a blonde headed stranger with a five letter name. We planted our kisses where the wild berries grow, my feet sprouted wings and I flew all the way home, my cheeks red like fire engines racing straight to the heat of your skin.


I knew our days were numbered, I'm a bird of the summer, and I'll fly south just as the fall begins.


The leaves changed their color and the school yards were filled, my coat with the patches barely keeps out the chill. 


I wish it were warmer and I hope you're the same.


The fields where we wandered were golden, and now they only muddy my boots. And I know I should recover, I'm a bird of the summer, you were wrong to try to capture me.


I met someone walking in the park by the lake, he don't fly like you did, but he don't fly away. Gone is the pale hand of winter, here is the first flush of may, and soon you will discover whether birds of the summer fly in circles or just fly away...