The Nightingale’s Song

The silver river was tense as it flowed,

The silver forest held its breath,

A silence so eerie filled the air,

The silver valley moaned in despair.

The clouds, the moon, the trees, the hills-

All were there to witness the death

Of the nameless bird who used to sing throughout the night,

The nameless bird that died a tragic demise.

The little black bird was always cheerful.

She was humble despite her stunning talent.

Her melodic voice could cover up any flaws.

Her melodic voice could make one forget all loss.

But that magic would no longer be as real

For the little nightingale was long gone.

Contented and satisfied with her short life,

She left but without biding any goodbyes.

Everyone missed her-

The clouds, the moon, the trees, the hills,

But they moved on with their life,

Because that was the nightingale would have done

Without thinking twice.

The nameless bird still sings,

Her voice still lingers in the air.

Her broken form now a part of the stars,

Her soul now free from the visible scars,

She still lives in her friends’ hearts.

The silver valley forever glows bright,

The nightingale’s song keeps it alive