this hole can not be patched
with plaster, mud or straw
sweet little birdies they come
bring their hearth and home
warmth, love, and soft down
the weather turns and the days grow short
and away blows the sweet familiar of their song
again it gapes
empty and forlorn
no house, no home.
how i wish to cover
with tiny doors, soft curtains and warm embrace
this drafty open wound
come back sweet little birds
and fill us with sweet songs
bring your majesty
calamity
to this hovel built for two
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
this hole can not be patched
with plaster, mud or straw
sweet little birdies they come
bring their hearth and home
warmth, love, and soft down
the weather turns and the days grow short
and away blows the sweet familiar of their song
again it gapes
empty and forlorn
no house, no home.
how i wish to cover
with tiny doors, soft curtains and warm embrace
this drafty open wound
come back sweet little birds
and fill us with sweet songs
bring your majesty
calamity
to this hovel built for two
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