Love
“You must choose love. Always choose love.” A bird, it fell from its nest. A woman, she helped her up. The nest is low in a short stubby tree. She placed the bird with delicacy. Her heard is gold. No one shall stain it. The branches of the baby tree thanked her by swaying in the wind. The bird's mother came back and tilted her head wondering why such a person would help. Shes seen so many thing but never something so kind. She looked at her child with dreamy eyes. They sang a melody more beautiful than Beethoven's Symphony No. 9.