What’s that sound drifting though the air?

As I’m searching around,

I think it’s crying, but from where?

Maybe from the forest; maybe from the town.

And as I wander,

searching for those sobs,

I see people saunter,

ignoring the cries amid their jobs.

Through the trees

I continue to walk.

And through the alleys

I quest on like a hawk.

At last, as the sun sets,

I find a little child

sitting on a church’s steps

with hair disheveled and eyes wild.

I stop and ask what’s wrong.

The child looks up, pale and sick

 and tells me that the church’s song

reminded her of her funeral music.