A Dead Spring | Teen Ink

A Dead Spring

July 7, 2014
By Music4Life789 SILVER, Holly Springs, North Carolina
Music4Life789 SILVER, Holly Springs, North Carolina
9 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Spring is here.
Then, why am I not in jollification?
Spring is here.
And all I see is resignation on a hill over there.

The birds sing happily,
I hear it as cacophony.
Flowers begin to bloom again,
I see them as perfect gifts for ‘him’.

I saw him for the last time
Flying—almost perfect.
My dreams for him vanished
As the hour of three-thirty hit me.

I thought back to “killing a mockingbird”
Which happened that May fourteenth.
I felt the atrophy of a dream
Which flew away in my hand.

The fervor to lament on something so small,
And yet it was like you and me—
Breathing and living.
Now, he is remembered in infamy.

Spring is here.
I try to be stolid.
Spring is here.
I still lament and reminisce.


The author's comments:
The real experience of my poem is on May 14th, 2014, my bird, Squirt, passed away at 3:30pm when I saw him take his last chirp while in my hand. I mourned about it for about five days. I remember that day during English, we got handed the “dream deferred” poem handout to do. I was going to do it on Squirt and him flying that day after-school, but I got a text from my mom in fourth block that he passed away because she said he stopped gasping for air when she was with him. I was his “mommy bird” when we had to take care of him because our neighbors killed Squirt’s siblings and the mom never came back. On May 13th, he was learning to fly with me jumping in the air and him ‘flying’ in a way. He was healthy, happy, and living. I will always remember him as ‘Squirt, ready to fly, but not here on Earth’ when I wanted him to be known for ‘flying to the sky to be with his mom bird again’.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.