A Moving Myth! Poem by Clarence Prince

A little bird told me
Whilst it was sitting by me
Maybe you won't believe me
Even so, surprisingly
I was very moved by it
Just by what it told me

It was a little bird story
Which was worth listening?
Yet this bird wasn't a parrot
Though it was just like a parrot
Perhaps from the same family
As it was so glorious to look at

Feathers of beauty, it had got all
That bird, it was a blessing to see
With all of its wonderful glee
Yes, but what was the story
Which it had told you
The story which it told me

Was nothing less than a myth
It was fine and took time
Even to tell it well
Then bear a while with me
I promise I'll get to it
As soon as I gather my wits

Hush, I can't tell it in a rush
Why, it s just too much
It's hard to tell it, rushing
You made it slipped away
But, wait it won't stay
For it's not one to stray

No, not that little bird
So whilst we wait
This is the little story
Told, by the bird in its glory
So surprisingly, to me
It said, the month is September

Soon comes the winter
It has to pack and go
To where the weather is hot
For parrots like birds to live
That's the story
Which it had told to me

Then it flew away
Just like a stray
But it will come again
When the winter's ends
I know it won't stay
This bird with its story

One could rightly say
It's just a moving myth
Yes, the whole thing is
Who wants to believe
This soft poetic story
It is a moving myth



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