Why I Keep My Window Open
He landed on my window sill
one sunny, summer day.
His ruffled feathers looked as though
he'd flown a long, long way.
Neither moved and as he sat
l looked him over good.
Decided that, from all I knew
he looked the way he should.
I finally went to get a bowl
some water and some bread.
Then carefully I placed it down
and watched him as he fed.
And as the sun began to set
I knew the time had come.
He gave a chirp, then off he flew,
to wherever he was from.
So, even though the chance is slim
there is no harm in hoping.
That he recalls there is a place,
the window's always open.
Written by,
Sheri Lynne Evans
February 7, 2020
Copyright © Sheri Evans | Year Posted 2020
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