They say she hid and flew, a long time ago:
Somewhere up north with the cardinals
and she hasn't been home since thousand and four.
But i see her every now and then,
up in tall trees, plants and cemeteries.
She comes to me from the late autumn trees.
I see her still, from time to time.
In stripes of black and orange glee,
she flaps her wings and sets me free.
But all this joy, comes with it's fees,
So up she goes year after year.
way up north with parting weathers.
Columbus sailed over to new waters;
Amelia flew over the Atlantic,
But my Monarch goes into the mystic.
And you may ask, "where?" and slowly ponder,
but she flies up, away, over yonder
Across the rivers, mountains and stone arches.
And she'll come back. Only on winters
and dark afternoons, but you'll see her
and when you do, you might not recognize
What her eyes have seen, her tongue speaks,
or why her skin is tan, but while here,
you get so excited you just scream and scream.
Where did you go and who did you meet?
What did you see and what did you play with?
Did you bring me a toy or maybe a doll?
But she tires and snores while you're up
and Howler! "You were gone all year, don't
tire and tire! Sing or tell me a tale!"
"Oh my monarch please don't be so frail!"
So she tells you the wonderful tale
the one you have heard time and time again.
She speaks of the extravagant structures,
the many screens and the smells of the year,
so you ask why she left this utopia?
"To see you my darling young child."
"For if i had to stay, i would
cry and cry over again."
"Then why don't you stay instead?"
"We could play all the days of the year."
But late at night she says,
"I will, you hear?"
Only for you to rise and find her
Not in her bed. So you'll cry and cry
day after day, hoping one day, you'll see her again.