As I sit here, I wait for her
I make new promises
I am confident
She is my solace

The bird with feathers of red autumn
Her tune, marked by joy, is sweet
I hear her blithe symphony
In the park benches, in the hymn of leaves

While beauty is found
In this faded old memory
In the end
Change arrives like an old friend

Once wintry chill arrives
The park turns still
And she is not there
A breeze stirs the sleeping flowers