SONG OF MOURNING
The nest was empty, the eggs gone,
The birdsong filled with fear and dread.
They chirped and wailed and warbled,
A sound that pierced the morning air.
The mother bird flew round and round,
Her heart a broken thing.
She searched the branches high and low,
But her babies were nowhere to be found.
The father bird sat on a nearby branch,
His head in his feathers.
He could not believe that this had happened,
That their nest had been raided in the night.
"Who would do such a thing?" they cried.
"Who would take our eggs and leave us here?"
They searched the ground and trees and sky,
But there was no sign of the thief.
They had worked so hard to build that nest,
To gather the softest twigs and leaves.
They had laid their eggs with such care,
And now they were gone.
They sang of terror, grief, and anger.
Their voices filled the air with sound.
The world would know of their loss,
And they would never forget this day.
The birdsong slowly died away,
And the only sound was the wind in the trees.
The sun rose higher in the sky,
But the birds knew that their lives would never be the same.
But they would not give up hope.
They would rebuild their nest and lay new eggs.
And one day, their babies would fly free.
