Off Robinson Street just past the stop and shop
sits a prairie that contains one little canary.
Its Saffron wings spread high and wide
its beak squabbling words of pride.

It wakes the town each day
so the children can come out and play.
It sings its perky songs
and everyone follows along.

Until one gloomy day
when a stranger came to stay.
His face stuck in a look of permanent distaste.
He shuffled into the woods with great haste.

There was a crack and its was as if the Earth was falling back.
The ground seemed to shudder and the sky started to thunder.
The man emerged with his handkerchief
its light ivory color seeping red.


He left the town to turn to dust.
And thats what it did
The sun never spread its Saffron wings
and the sky never sang.
The life in the town couldn't sustain and all that was left was a memory and a little prairie without its canary.



(yes its completely random I just wrote about it when one of my friends Canarys died Hope Ya'll liked it)

Thats a bit odd....but it's nicely written. =p