Words Not Spoken

Would you have told the magpie?
Or let it speak to you instead?
Did the words you wrote that day,
Mean as much as all souls dead?

When it lay there in your pocket,
Was it there for good and gone?
Were you keeping it just warm for then?
Were you hiding all along?

You have let the magpie off to fly,
For now, your lucks run out.
I think though it will come again,
And you’ll be told what it’s about.