The Cuckoo

There once was a cuckoo
That sang everyday.
It came to Grandma’s
And called out my name.
Miles a part were we,
Yet she remembered me
Because everyday
The cuckoo called for me.
Each morning she waited
For the cuckoo to show.
Each morning she waited
To hear it’s coo.
She listens, and listens
For the sound of the coo,
And when she hears it
She coos back too.
It reminded her
Of her darling girl,
Whom she dearly missed,
All year through.
When season’s are grey,
They bird doesn’t stay.
It flies away
To a better place.
But when skies are blue
And the air is warm,
It once again returns
To Grandma’s home.
When the holidays come,
I eagerly wait,
For it’s time to go
To see my Grandma.
Every time I visit,
Grandma recalls,
That story about
That cuckoo’s calls.
All rights reserved © inkonpaperstories

Advertisements

One Comment Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s