The hummingbird called to me.
It perched upon a willow tree,
And stared down at my eyes to see,
To see if I was truly awake.
And it was saddened to see that my droopy eyes were no sooner asleep.
I tried and I tried,
To come alive for its own sake.
But my attempt was futile.
If only it waited awhile…

The bird no sooner left me.
It left me with my eyes half open to this world unseen,
And I was left here to look up at the play set in motion; it was quite obscene.
It appalled me to death and back,
To have to watch these lovely roses turn black.
Right before my eyes, did I watch
As I helplessly had to watch them botch.
They butchered this tale.
This beautiful tale that nature intended us to enact.
They were the players,
But they lacked the script.
They were the audience,
Who knew not what was being displayed right before their very eyes.
And I was the narrator.
Who with eyes forced open, had to watch everything transpire.
Even the hummingbird who danced around my fire