No one is beyond the reach of your mercy
Not soiled tiny birds bathing in mud puddles
Nor slobbering drunks, nor fending addicts
Not angry ones who hold the weight of abuse
Nor those who suffer the pain of life here and now
We are all the little sparrows searching for seed

Inspired by Marc Morais' comments on his poem, Lily and Moon

The night hovered, a dark sheet of a night.
The moon spotlit my terrace despite.

One flower-face exceptionally bright
Turns upwards towards the light.

Shyly glancing up at such a great height
We in glorious slender stay in our respite,

And wrap this memory like a cloak of beauty
About us forever, so very tightly.

When I see who you were back then
And who you are now, I am confused

Not born with a silver spoon, yet refined
You rebelled, then, and craved my family

We were unabashedly affectionate and kind
And your spine was tired of the iron rod in it

Being told you disappointed them daily
Eventually took your joy away, and you too

You met a man at college that they loved
Who could give you nice things, them prestige

You had finally caved to their status quo
Now who you are I simply no longer know

And I am left to wonder, did I ever know you

I would eat my own arm
To sustain my life
In order to sustain yours

I would feed you
My own flesh to sustain yours
And stay with you ignoring my needs

Until you are grown and on your way
And then, with my life's mission done
I could fade

She is new mown grass,
A butterfly’s gentle caress
On a blushing rose bud.

She is the scent of fresh pine
Wafting through warmer climes,
As refreshing as morning dew.

She is like the yellow-green shaft,
Blades of picked sweet grass
Held within one’s teeth.

Sweeter than a baby's breath,
She is the sparkle in lovers’ eyes,
The essence of every beautiful song.

The last stanza is inspired by Mary Huxley's poem, If You Return

Your needs are calling, and I should go

Yet, I cannot this moment, for
I must write while the words flow

The pain of losing you
Before you're even gone

Is too acute for me to carry on
Yet, we all must, for in time we all go

And you will soon and so must I
We cannot turn to look back

Yet, when you return, no need to knock
For my door has memorized you

Birds come and go
In earnest flows
A rhythm, a cycle.

Just as

Flow the flowers
Blown in drying fields
Fly on ephemeral wings.

So, flow all things.