The Blue Bird

The Blue Bird

 

In some way, he knew her

like no other.

There wasn’t a freckle on her face

that he couldn’t place.

Her sweet laugh still tickled his ears

though she was no longer here.

He now sat on the porch in his rocking chair

while giving the empty rocker a vacant stare.

He recalled the days they’d spent rocking side by side,

enjoying each other, while Blue Birds were flying high.

“I wish I were a bird…” she’d once said as her hair blew in a breeze,

“I’d fly high and not have to worry about Ol’ Arthur in the knees!”

He had replied, “But then, you wouldn’t be here with me!”

She patted his hand and said, “I would find my way to you. That, you can believe!”

He missed her so much,

though, he longed to feel her close--"close enough to touch.

He was once convinced that her spirit was still with him;

she had always been his every whim.

But lately, he had to try extra hard to feel her near.

His aging mind was forgetting her, he feared.

At times, he would look around

for her to be found,

half expecting to see her smiling face.

Oh how he missed her gentle way.

In reminiscing, a tear rolled down a weathered cheek,

he found himself wishing he could hear her speak

once more, to hear her sweet voice.

To remember, he hadn’t a choice.

He needed to feel her once more,

his spirit implored.

Then, he sat still as if hoping to hear her from somewhere out there,

when a Blue Bird came to perch on her rocking chair.

 

Melinda McQueen Rodgers

June 3, 2021

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

A poignant write Melinda about getting old and dealing with loss. The saddest thing I heard was of an old lady who had dementia finding out again that her husband had died. She relived it for the second time, as if once wasn't enough. Beautifully conveted work.

Chris

[Melinda McQueen]

Awww that's so sad. It must have been so hard on her... and for her loved ones to see her go through that.