Sings a Sparrow
Sings a Sparrow|
Along shadowed bayous
Is born a sparrow, a fragile
Wraith of broken wing and eyes
Of dulled brilliance... and it is
Pitied that she cannot fly or
Sing of beauty beheld, cannot
Perch upon lofty branch. Perhaps
It is even pitied that she 'is' at all.
Time passes and the sparrow grows,
Mocking fragility's veil. Fallen leaves
And blades of green become her friends,
Weeds, her confidants, and she is
Content, but she often hears fluttering wings
And the hue and cry of avian discoveries.
Sometimes she wonders how it would
Feel to fly, to see, and to sing...to hear
Her own song!
She hears, too, leaves whispering crimson
Secrets, grass giggling, and sunsets sighing
Its rose-gold promises. She dances beneath
Golden sun and coolness of midnight to music
No one else can hear and she flies... higher
And higher. She hears a voice, a song, an
Aria of imaginationan and feels it drifting
Beyond restless winds and gentle breezes.
Ah yes, she knows... and she sees!
And along shadowed bayous
There sings a sparrow....
submitted into the Word Painting Challenge
host: Pam (whispermoon)
By Myrna D.
© 2018 Myrna D.
(All rights reserved)