She sat by the window sill, in all her browning glory. Bright and chirpy, she sang songs to regale me.
She whispered pretty nothings into my desolate ears. As my brooding heart cheered up, she whistled past my ears.
As usual, the elation was not meant to be. Today, she flew away, promising never to return.
And again the thought arises in my pea-sized brain: “Am I not good enough? Why, sweet lord, why?”
Why is everything dear to my heart "not meant to be?"
