The Last Song

Strong, strange wind from the west

Lifts the virgin dust scoring the road

Has a fleeting scandalous affair with her

Flies high, entwining bodies so bold

They dance together up and down

Drying the dew drops dead

Trampling the yellowing grass further

Waltzing like drunk gone mad

Shrivelled leaves turning and twisting

Writhe in agony, immeasurable pain

Cry to gain their tormentor's attention

But all their efforts go in vain

Far from the chaos, a nightingale sings

Wind stops to hear her voice

His lover falls to the ground flat

Spreading her body without poise

Dust gets a grip on wind again

Who was swaying lightly on the street

Listening to the sweet music from far

Forgetting his mistress lying on his feet

Dust is a woman hurt and scorned

Plans to kill the songbird

Forces wind to rise, play havoc once more

In the direction where the song was last heard

Caught in her embrace wind dances again

Smitten by her charms continues to kill

Blinded by dust pushes the bird away

Scared little bird hits the windowsill

Sweet music is replaced by bird's wailing

Wind stops and stands still as death

For he realizes his lover's brutal plan

He screams and slaps the dust in wrath

Blows her far from his path

Leaving her lifeless as before

Stands still feeling his anger ebb away

Leaving a throbbing wound, permanently sore

Slowly floats towards the dying bird

Rocking her in his trembling arms

Repents for his sins again and again

Looking like a beggar asking for alms

The little one sighs and pleads

"oh wind take me to a shaded tree

Let the rain fall around me

In that heaven let my soul be free"

That night the Nightingale died

Broken, but not unwanted

Rain fell from wind's sad eyes

His soul scarred forever,