A Fallen Sparrow
It was just lying there on the floor
like a poem I had abandoned,
left for dead, considered trash
Not a breath did it take
No thrashing to behold
I'd not witnessed its death
in the making, truth be told
but I knew with every instinct
so I hung my head this morning
in respectful mourning
Its eyes, I'd only imagined
winked at me while I stared in shock
wondering where was its winged flock
to have left it here all alone
to have its feathers plucked
like an oyster that'd been shucked
eaten by a hungry mouth
left to decay were its tiny bones
when it should've been flying south
I knelt to whisper of my sorrow
for this stiff fallen sparrow
who would never see another morrow
and grieved for its remains until
I was aghast but relieved to see
its outstretched wings
had deceived my blurry eyes
What joy it brought me to realize
this bird was not of flesh and blood
but an Origami work of art
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