deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Wren
if her spirit were to show
in any size, shape, or form,
I believe she'd be a bird,
perhaps a tiny warbler.
But if she were a wren,
her wings so small and thin,
would she be strong enough to face the wind,
or fight the cancer lying within?
I hope she'd fly away from here,
in gardens, she would feed her soul.
And when perched on a lovely elm,
Amazing Grace would take her in.
To heaven she'd draw near,
while angels whisper in her ear,
“no need to be afraid, my dear,”
And Danny Boy would bring her home.
in any size, shape, or form,
I believe she'd be a bird,
perhaps a tiny warbler.
But if she were a wren,
her wings so small and thin,
would she be strong enough to face the wind,
or fight the cancer lying within?
I hope she'd fly away from here,
in gardens, she would feed her soul.
And when perched on a lovely elm,
Amazing Grace would take her in.
To heaven she'd draw near,
while angels whisper in her ear,
“no need to be afraid, my dear,”
And Danny Boy would bring her home.
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