The Bird Lady of Ecclesall Woods
Her whisper gentle like the summer breeze
Calls a passing sparrow lonely and shy,
One that had escaped the northerly bise
Intoxicated from flying too high.
A welcoming hand held out a surprise
While a tranquil voice hints of sweet meadows,
Orchestration of each golden sunrise
Her kindly eyes destroy fearsome shadows.
This tiny bird in need of a dear friend
Feasts and sups unafraid of humankind,
The two of them breach the regular trend
With eyes wide open although both are blind.
Adverse to prejudice tis plain to see
If everyone made a friend this the key.
© Harry J Horsman 2015
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