Birds that cried - Poetry

Once there was,
A sign,
That foretold,
Of a great wealth,
That would come to the land.

People tried to solve the puzzle,
That held it a secret,
To each craving for a portion,
Or whole,
Of that massive treasure.

The birds came first,
Crying on a cold December morning,
Like the signs foretold.

Search as they might,
They couldn't fit the pieces together,
For it was meant for one,
One that drew pictures in the sky.

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