Mockingbird Fell

The MOCKINGBIRD fell, like a cotton-filled toy-,
and cried like a cotton-filled boy.
Crimson was further crimson
as it fell from the mockingbird's eyes.

“My boy, you are wrong,”
it began its cotton-filled song
(as it could still sorely sing)
and as crimson now moistened its beak:

“When time is weathered,
and you have weathered,
and that rose, with its petals,
is at the end of its tether –

when time drains that river,
selfishly slurps up that river,
and those small, slipping grains
and their glass learn to sliver –

when that young, nimble center,
that clean, nimble center,
has fallen and splintered,
and invites venom to enter –

you will miss me, my boy,
not just me, your small toy --
you will miss that clean center
and that water and sand.”

With this song in his ears, the boy let go,
let go of the mockingbird’s neck. . .
and he watched the velvet, he saw it slow,
watched the splatteredred(crimson) wreck.
Then the mockingbird fell, the crimson too strong,
and the boy walked away from its song.

(he walked away, only later to say
that the mockingbird was not wrong.)