This world we live in can be cold,
Heartless and selfish to young and old,
We should, to keep our sanity,
Sometimes indulge in fantasy.

^¡^
          ^¡^
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Plain and brown
Ubiquitous
Seen yet never seen
Like street workers
Or bellhops
Or busboys
Or homeless.

Scrappy little scavengers
Scraping out a small lifespan
In cracks of concrete
In city streets smelling
Of asphalt and skidmarks.

They hop along
Like  yesterday's newspaper
Or a 5X81/2 inch flier
For last night's bar-band.
Dandelion's fluff.

Outside of McDonald's
They congregate competing
With each other for
Hamburger buns which
Cling to cold
Half eaten cheeseburgers.
Greasy french fries
Which cause congestion
In their legs so severe
That they shrivel up
And fall off.


Yet God sees every one
Of them. Loves them.
His eye is always on them.
They do not fall
From the branch
Without being
Counted.

A freedom we
Will never know
Is their portion.

They are unencumbered
By the ground
While we are
It's slaves.

Their 🎶🎶🎶
Tells us we will
Always be thus.
We will  always envy
The soul of sparrows.


Write of Passage aka
SoulSurvivor
2022

In a small glass bowl with rainbow hues,
Stands a tiny tree with leaves of jade,
And a golden flame atop does burn,
While some silver stars below parade.
It's a bowl of art and fantasy,
Not on sale in any worldly shop,
It may be found in Gnome's Gallery,
Where the elves and goblins often stop.

Pale leaves fall silently in the dead of winter
I realise I have lived far too long
I was once a bold and outgoing singer
but no longer has life left me any single song-

in the night's thickest snow I wander
the heartless winds they blow loud and strong
tears of forlorn love on icy rocks they flounder
in this chilling hour I weep,  to none do I belong