A little bird, with plumage brown, 
Beside my window flutters down,	
A moment chirps its little strain,	
Then taps upon my window-pane,	
And chirps again, and hops along,	
To call my notice to its song;		
But I work on, nor heed its lay,	
Till, in neglect, it flies away.	

Looking out on the dawning day,	
My thoughts like dry leaves drift away,
What did I hear that now has left?	
That seemed fleeting and rather deft.	
The sound of a friend's short visit.	
To draw my near and elicit.		
To rise and greet a friend one knows.	
With gentle words and lilting prose.	

Yet gone is the passing moment.	
For time is my worse opponent.	
As wasted time and passing thoughts.
Leaves my spirit in twisted knots.	
Why did I tarry and delay.		
And let my mind in tatters fray.	
To miss the moment bitter sweet.	
And in regret I make retreat.		

I pray that I may always be.		
A welcome friend awaiting thee.	
A Christian with an open door.	
An open heart for evermore.		
For I should never want to miss.	
Another note of tender bliss.		
So patiently I will attend.		
And welcome hence my every friend.

MJ Flack