The Little White Bird Poem by Anne Marie V. Kennedy

In the open meadow I cry
Your eyes too dark to ever see mine
Your hair too blond to melt in the snow
Your smile too thin to make me let go

I see the ice on the bitter white screen
That kills my illusion of the summer dream
Wipes out my protection from evil and foes
Wonder why I ever thought it wouldn't have froze

The tears on the screen of the bright open sky
Tearing my summer that the winter denies
Meeting my devil on the smooth fallen snow
Embracing my angel on the terror below

You fell on my angel, you fought on my shield
You cried on my devil, too cold to be heard
You danced on my river, tearing hurt into pain
The cold gashing wound is all that remains

Forever you promised, forever you cried
The night wasn't made for one with those eyes
The water was broken before you arrived
You took out the evil and left the disguise

My love, you are broken; my dear, you have died
The only thing left is your bitter disguise
The terror is reaching, the reaching has died
My heart is not breaking, this blood is not mine

Winter, my angel; winter, my love
The time has not melted the frozen white dove
She sits in her meadow on her cool metal perch
Waiting for summer on the hot molten earth

Thinking she sings, thinking she chirps
But the hollow white air has determined her worth
The song wasn't sung, the voice wasn't heard
And there ends the story of the little white bird.