Isabella
I hear the birds chirping
And I listen to what they say
They tell me secrets of many.
Even so, their silence overwhelms me.
I feel their waiting
Patiently, patiently
What are they waiting for?
I ask them, desperate,
But they just sing their songs in return.
Slowly, their chirps grow into cries of agony
And their wait grows no more.
Their broken, beautiful harmony
Becomes empty.
I listened to their chirps too long.