A wise tale speaks of Cardinals or red birds being the departed, paying visits to the living, on cold days of winter.
There is an antique brass urn
Now the coldest day at noon
And the crystal snowflakes gather
There is a prism in my room
Its cold in here I noticed, picking up your urn
Speechless, I stood, having nothing to say
In quietness, from my eye, as I began to turn
A white feather lingers downward in a sun-ray
Dangling freely in the air, it looked, as if, to loom
Are you here? I soberly whispered on this icy day
In silence hear your specific loved tune
The one you hummed and then knelt to pray
That feather came to rest upon my pillow
Is this your sign, I asking, did you come to lay?
Outside blows the branches of a Willow
“Yes, just as if any other day”
There’s an antique brass urn
Now the coldest day at noon
And the crystals snowflakes gather
There is a prism in my room
~
~
©2016 WP Bojenn. All Right’s Reserved
Youtube: Little Anthony Tears on My Pillow
Mimsi Flowers and Notions 
very nice, Miss Bojenn
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Well, thank you Mr. Alan… How are you today?
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