The Cockatiel’s Lament - Suzanne O'Keeffe

A bird perched on its tree, its clawing needling on the branch,
How doth the moth get passed the honey bee when the glade is but a trance,
Where do you go my lovely, where does the trail of thoughts get sold?
How doth the cockatiel sing its melody to unveil its cloth of golden stole?
And down its sweeps in the air so gaily and free,
Til loves cloth of glory got its stitches unto thee.
But to unknot the ravels of heavens mighty thread,
This bird must choose its life to be free or happily wed.

Across the daisies he sweeps his wings out two and fro,
Searching for his lover where doth the beauty go,
She’s hidden among the emerald shield of duvet cotton leaves,
She’s the mystery of heavens missing cloth of threads of cupids weave.
Her eyes tell have many tales, her feathers unwithered by the past,
The last of the ladies she is the one in a million platinum grasp.
Alas he drifts among the sea cliff his melody changing with the waves,
Why should such a beauty love give a chance for his behaves?

But doth the cockatiel discern how love’s unravelling present lies,
It sown the threads of “her choice” into her own beauty’s eyes,
Unto these threads begin to sow and needle life’s quality quilt,
Where these two birds lament each other unto a standards stilt.
She plucks among the dandelions and blows their florets across the air,
Hoping that his eyes will turn to compose a cupid cumulative stare.
Hovered in the air the taraxacum seeds float freely and frolic,
Where two hearts meet and cause an epidemic systolic.
The melody is in tune alas, the quavers are now in match,
A song of ever lasting peace is now on heaven’s door latch.

Suzanne O'Keeffe