There was a bird in the forest
It stole colours from a rainbow
As in a poem she thought she knew
She leafed through the pages to find its name
She didn’t care.
It was singing a song as she walked alongside it
A threnody of sorts, a finale
Notes detached from the darkness, a part of the forest
Not the forest.
She knew that the bird might be real
With its name and nameless song
As she walked away though,
The bird receded into shadow,
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