A small, Bluebird

A small, Bluebird

Of Happiness

Sitting on the branch

Of a Chinese Rose

How beautiful it is

In its simplicity

Hung in a black frame

On a white wall

Calling to me

Of a day in September

The sun’s rays

Dipping through a window

Late flowering Lavender

On the table

A golden Sunday

Memory

A study in concentration

Unconsciously biting

Your lower lip

Smearing bright blue paint

With the tip

Of a soft-haired brush

Bringing it all to life

A breath of silent

Wonder

As the Bluebird

Sings in harmony

Of majesty and existence

How sweetly flows

The joy

Intrinsic

To the memory

Of the moment

When a Bluebird

Given wings

And licence to fly

In search of happiness

Still chose

To stay with me