Untitled Poem

I got bored in history class, so I decided to reflect on some things...

On and on, again and again
You sing your song that never ends

Silly hawk, you should not sing
Your kind prefers to eat living things

Like now, you see, you look at me
A nimble speck, a bug, a bee

Your eyes widen, your beak opens
And with your song, Our story begins

Though a hawk, you seem so meek
You're shy and caring, neither wicked nor weak

You guard me, oh so carefully
Our companionship is kept, so secretly

Then a shock, like an iron fist
Our private world shed of its mist

Exposed, alone, refusing to fight
You take my hand and we take flight

Once, though, when I pause to rest
You recall, remember, you left your nest

You abandon me for a desolate place
Your mate's long absence there in your face

You remember that day, when she ran away
It was the same day you asked me to stay

And the truth, though hurtful, stands out for all to see
No hawk (You sing) could (ever) love a bee.

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