Death of the Sparrow

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

High above the cotton clouds,
The sparrow falters in her flight;
Circling in confusion, eyes seeking
A sanctuary to rest in the cold night.

Her journey's been long and lonely,
She's felt the bite of winter's chill;
Her life's been spent seeking a home,
A place of warmth, a place that's real.

Her wings are frayed with the touch of time,
Her eyes are tired, and so, so sad;
Her body is fragile, she dips her head,
Not knowing a time her life wasn't bad.

She cries to the darkening skies,
Heart beating terribly, alone and in need;
In fear of the hawk that is ever near,
Awaiting a reckless soul which to feed.

In a moment's gust, she's sent spinning,
Plunging toward doom, she cares no more;
Heaven's become hell, living too hard,
She know longer cares what life has in store.

In her last moment, she sends one final cry,
In protest that her life was worth naught;
No one cares, and then, she is gone,
Her love was offered, but no one bought.