the finch was present before i ever knew
crucifix on her neck flying through skies of blue
and sense of comfort and reliance only grew and grew
no one will ever be as constant as the finch is the conclusion that i drew
the finch is the standard, the bar that’s been set
the finch’s love was undying, abandonment was never a fret
the finch’s soft blond-ish brown hair held back by a beret
the finch was my moon, the first love i’ll never forget
the finch grew with me as i led her from the pews
i etched her in my notebooks, my fairly simple minded muse
but the simpleness was appreciated for there was no abuse
when she kissed she needn’t leave marks nor a single bruise
she knew i was hers without tarnishes or brandings
we melded into one, a sculpture we spent 2 years molding and sanding
the finch held me in her gentle palms there was no need for handling
my leash was loose and forgiving, she was soft and understanding
the finch was adolescence the finch was my youth
i don’t look back in spite, the love needs no proof
the love was naïve, like the kisses she gave me in a jar
the finch left her mark on my pinky, on the tip is a scar
where we used to lock fingers before she flew away so far
the finch is still in the sky when i look at the stars
the garden didn’t die it seeped into the ground
babies breath and lavender withered into a mound
when I see lilies i know my finch is still around
but the chain on her locket was not unbreakable, we weren’t destined, we weren’t bound
the finch pecked at my heart, she brought me pebbles and rocks
she held me softly as i cried on the dock
sometimes i close my eyes, i’m 17 and i hear the finch sing
the creaky wood underneath us, where she first kissed me on the swing
I hope my finch is alright i hope my finch is just fine
though my young self never imagined a universe in which she was not mine
i can’t imagine a world in which we’d again intertwine
I grew up, i left my sweet finch behind.
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