The meadow was alight with a golden hue in the early breath of fall. Swarms of birds swooped, spreading their dark plumage against the sky – they were free!  

A girl looked up into the sky, wondering what it would be like to glide through the ocean of blue, among the scattered clouds.  A breeze rattled the red and golden leaves dangling in the branches of the clustered trees and whispered grass. She plucked a lifeless daisy gazing blankly at it with memories of the gone summer.  The sun reflected her golden hair, and her blue eyes matched the sky. 

She was altered to a small cry of help. She glanced in every direction, but she saw nothing.  The quivering cry sounded again.  She rose and followed it to a small ditch in which a trap was set. 

“Oh! How could a lovely little sparrow like you get caught in the trap? I could swear your feathers are tinted gold. I’m not going to hurt you. Come let me help you now.”   

And this is when the unusual friendship began between a girl and a very special bird.

From that day on she guarded the bird and dressed its broken wing and cut leg. She found herself talking to the sparrow. She truly loved it. Tears welled in her eyes. 

“You are free to go when you are healed, for I know loneliness and I won’t let you be lonely. I have no parents. Do you?”   

She fondled the soft, warm, feathery ball of life. The bird twittered gratefully.

“You know, I have never heard you sing little golden sparrow.”  A faraway look came to the girl’s eyes as she sang in her own sweet melodious voice.  

"I dream of a song that I can sing.  

A song I can remember.  

A song that will be everlasting.  

A song that lives forever."

The wind in the firs was the harmony of the song. The fire crackled gaily in the small hut in which she slept. The small sparrow’s voice suddenly echoed in the silence. It sang as if its tiny throat would burst.  Indeed this must be a magical bird for it to sing so beautifully. The girl was happy. She fell into a deep slumber.  

When the sun rose into the sky to greet the new dawn, the sparrow was long gone. The only one she had to give her love to was gone forever.  The brook bubbled its sympathy and the sky mourned in its sad gray. A long winter had passed when the sad girl fell ill. She was heartbroken; no one did anything for her, and she could do nothing for herself.  She died on a cold wind-swept winter night. 

After the rainy and damp March and April, the warmth of May brought the spring season round again when the sparrow returned. Its song echoed through the blossoms and green hills as the sparrow perched on the roof of the hut. The song that the girl sang has never ended in the hearts of man, animal, and the world.  

I dream of a song that I can sing 

–  The wind whispered softly.

A song I can remember 

–  A stream bubbled.

A song that will everlasting be

–  The birds sang.

A song that lives forever

 –  The trees rustled softly.  

The End.