Nightingale

A year. It had been a year since the poem Eiragerd had written for her own self. Somehow, again, this date managed to surprise her. Yes, she'd had further growth and goodness in the year between.
But somehow, on the very day she thought would pain her again, she was given unexpected blessing.

Dance for the fire,
The glow of warmth!
Dance for the breeze
Bringing rains from the north!

Dance for the grass;
For the green of the hills!
Dance for the sun;
The warming of chills!

Dance for the lilies
The gems of the forest!
Dance for the frogs;
For their sweet little chorus!

Eiragerd remembered the day. She could not have forgotten it if she cared to. Yet, she was surprised to find it did not stab her as she dreaded it would for weeks.
It was like any other memory and any other pain now. Looking back, she could not help but admire the growth it had brought about in her. Inspiration hit, and she could not help but write her heart on paper.

Do you spread joy, or seek to annoy?

Diddle-liddle-dee! My, you are free!

Tick of the clock or click of the tongue?

Tick-click-tock! Just a bit of fun!

Sweet as nectar, nay, you are better!

Diddle-liddle-dee! Fly off like a bee!

Stomp of the foot or beat of a drum?

Do you think of me

When a drop of rain, like a lonely tear, falls?

I think of you

When in a storm, the rumbling thunder calls. 

Do you think of me

When you lie awake as your fears, you try to subdue?

I think of you;

I wish you were here.

​​​​​​I wish I was enough.

I wish I could stop wishing,

But that's a part of love.  

I wish I could hold you.

I'd keep you so near.

I wish I could stop wishing

While I drown in fear.

Mistake. Yet another mistake.

How much? How much more must I take?

What I had. What I love. What I lost. 

After wrong, for right I swallow bitter cost.

Scream. I want to shout. 

Rage. Destroy. I want to let it all out. 

Numb. My outside, my shell is numb.

- - -

They say that the Nightingale will travel any distance to find a perfect place for itself.

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