Standing on the snow kissed grass,
I catch a red fluttering of wings in my blue windows.
I look closer and feel my eyes have been decieved.
The most beautiful cardinal, flyign figures of eight; my intial thought, "I must have it."
So I ran, I jumped, I chased after the bird.
Soaring closer and closer to the ground, she joined my game.
With a snatch, a clamp, I had her in my hands;
But I did not feel proud, she is not my trophy.
In my grasp she only suffers, she feels torturted.
Like ripping a rose from it's stem, leaving nothing but a faceless body.
For my palms only caged her beauty,
Smoothering her purity between my phalnges, she is left in shambles.
So I extinguished my grip and let her fly free.
And though I am still as misrable and empty as before,
At least I set her free to spread her grace and magesty.