Short Story: The singing tramp

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John lived on the streets for the last twenty years of his short life. John was only 45, when he died. Every morning, around 7 am, he would awaken to the songs of birds singing in the park, where he also parked his body, each night, on a park bench in there. After a few years, of this routine, John began singing along with these birds, each morning too. Over the years following, passer-by's would stop to listen to John, and the birds singing. It was truly beautiful to listen to. John became known as the, "Singing Tramp". The morning when John had died these people also came through the park, heard the singing, but it sounded different, it seemed to be coming from the sky above them now. They looked for John on his bench, but he had already died, and he lay there as stiff as one of the boards on the seat, where he still laid. The cold winter night had finally gotten to him, it seemed. Death lives in the song of love, but its final note is never heard because love sings it alone. Death is the price we pay for love. John had paid his price, but his song lived on. Photo Credit: The photo used here was freely sourced from the free media site: pixabay.com Life sometimes tramples all over us, but it never kills your song.