A little bird was singing,
Hoping she’d be listening,
A melody to get her attention,
And vanquish her prevention.

It was a very nice piece,
A reminder of Venice,
Good for exalting a soul,
And make you feel whole.

She was hearing all right,
Taking it with delight,
Still she was not ready,
For something steady.

The little bird understood,
And beside her stood,
On the top of a tree,
While letting her free.

They stayed there long,
Waiting for the gong,
Announcing end of day,
And both going away.

Tomorrow can be far,
In the midst of a war,
Taking place in the heart,
Of the beloved still apart.

Montreal,
July 8^th, 1999