“All I need is a red rose
To see her dance upon her toes,
But in my garden there is none,”
The student cried up to the sun.
Lying in a nest above
Sat a bird inspired by love.
“Here at last is a true lover,
A dream come true, I have discovered.”
Lizard, Butterfly, and Daisy
Thought the bird was somewhat crazy,
But the Nightingale understood
What the others never could.
She asked three rose trees
But none could please.
All she wanted was to help the boy.
She knew that love was not a toy.
“There is one thing—I shouldn’t say,
But, honestly, there is one way.”
The red rose tree meant no harm
The nightingale sat on its arm.
“You must pierce a thorn into your breast
Then just sing. I’ll do the rest.
If you are sure, come back tonight
When the moon reflects the only light.”
“For you, I’ll sacrifice my life
Maybe one day she’ll be your wife.”
“Arts are a waste, be quiet bird!
I learn from books, not songs I’ve heard.”
“Sing one last song,” said the tree,
“Your voice is beautiful to me.”
As the sun descended from the sky
The nightingale bid her friends goodbye.
She sang her heart out all night long
And through her pain her voice was strong.
Her red blood warmed the frozen veins.
When morning came, so much had changed.
One last note stole her final breath
Her wings froze as the sun warmed the rest.
The boy woke up and looked outside.
“A red rose! What a pleasant surprise!”
The smiling boy picked the rose
And put on his nicest clothes.
“I brought a rose, now we can dance.”
“No, someone has stolen your chance.”
“He brought expensive jewels for me,
Compared to you, he’s more wealthy.”
“You are ungrateful!” the boy screamed.
She, offended, turned to leave.
He threw the rose into the street.
A gutter and cart wheel it would meet.
To love would be a waste of life.
Books and logic will suffice.