A tinybird

sits in a lonesome tree

as she waits for her Caregiver,

her Provider.

 

she watches

as her mother fondly feeds Another.

one crusty worm is thrust at her feet.

 

she begins to sing

hoping for her mother’s eyes’ gleam.

 

her song is In Vain 

Never again will the bird’s song be the same.

 

she is competent now.

her feathers are mighty.

her mind is forceful.

 

despite the years 

One Single Thought 

Invades

Again. and. Again

her song 

lacked the pitch to be prasied.