The Flock
Like golden crows seen passing in the sunlight,
Harmonic dark silhouettes in the evening sky,
Friendships may be brief, fading into the night.
Never looking back and never explaining why.
Watching until they are memories to you,
Clinging to the hope that they might just turn around,
Finally admitting that your hope is past due,
You turn and walk away without making a sound.
It will be very strange not having them here,
You try to console yourself with this line again.
You’ve been alone before, what is there to fear?
And you will most likely be alone in the end.
Looking up you see a sole golden shadow
Flying in a frenzy with the flock far ahead,
Suddenly falling limp to the ground below,
It feared being all alone and now it is dead.
