the cardinal

she flies away in fear, never to be seen again.

she flies in fear

wings painted red

another halo she must shed.

it's not as if she can bear

her head up high,

simple pride

because another lover she has lost

to death, love's cruel cost.

waxwing, waxwing, dipped in gold

never again, only to be found

in the jaws of Death's dark hound.

she shivers, black eyes cold.

for another love she has lost,

yellow shine amidst the dark.

the north's icy wind chills thee to the bone

but one cardinal says no more, is gone.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading my first poem on Writer's Cafe! Some of my questions for you are if the metaphor is precise enough, how my word choice is, and if there is any way it could be better formatted for better effect. Thank you, again!