The Call

Walking through the woodlands, now suburbia's lost sight
Was the last place that she should have gone, under sapphire skies that night


A rose thorn picked her previously, blood ignites the past
Led her to her messy wardrobe, dress all crushed and stained with grass


Her life had crumbled overnight, her mind kept folding stairs
Recalled that evening's tragedy, no more times to call theirs


They halted at this very spot, in silent sounds of life
His destiny decided by the edging on that knife

They ran off with no money, no valuables to steal
Breathed in love and honesty, the main part of their deal.


A quick but painful passing, his eyes pleading to her.
His last vision was her terror as his sight began to blur.


Months had past and so it seemed, she conquered over pain
Never shall she take love to this deep level again


So while standing on the very spot, she knew what she should do
Join him in eternity, red penetrating blue


The drop was sharp and very deep, the river ran below
A few brave steps and up she'll fly, all pretty for her beau


But the second that she closed her eyes, she felt a nippy peck
Her scarlet scarf was firmly tugged and flew straight from her neck

Four calling birds took to the silk, and rested on the branch
The scarf that still held Peter's blood, that doubled as a stanch


The birds were loud, despite the night, a ruckus round the red
And watermarks in tears now spilling down that fateful dress


A calling bird alone did sing, in vague familiar tune
Similar to that that Peter hummed up to the moon


Quietly she rose and started slowly walking back
To the home they'd built together,  with it's little flaws and cracks


At the gate she smiled and slid the scarf quite easy overhead
The knot, as ever, far too tight - a Calling Bird  in stead.

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