A Bird in My Hand

I caught a bird in my hand
Who fell from his flight
Away from his flock
He was in a terrible plight!

The bird could not fly
And could not regain
The time he had lost
Nor could he find his way

He could not return
To the path he had flown
He was now in a prison
In a place that was unknown

I climbed up a hill
And cleared a path away
To free the little bird
Who had so lost his way

I gently placed him down
And spread open his wings
The wind lifted him up
It was a marvelous thing!

To watch the little bird
Find a new way
Gently soaring high
In the brightness of the day

The little bird was gone
He flew far away
I never got to ask him
Or hear what he would say

How did it feel
To be captured by me
Was he glad to be gone
Was he happy and free?

The bird flew away
He was far from my sight
But I could not forget that little bird
Try as I might!

All that remained was his feather
Then it too blew away
Nothing left but a remembrance
Of a bird who had lost his way...