Kevin Michael Bloor

Little Songbird

I saw a sad and sleepy bird
alone up in a tree.
He sat so still, and when I passed,
he did not notice me.

But then he seemed to fret and flit
from branch to branch in fear.
And I felt sure that in his eye
I spied a silver tear.

I walked on past, got on my train,
sat by my colleague, Jack.
Was then I thought I saw the bird,
through window, on the track.

With wounded wing, he flew and fell,
then sang a song so sweet;
it touched me in my heart’s deep core
and made me leave my seat.

Gave my excuse, left Jack to stare,
(talk on the train was cheap)
but once outside, the bird flew off,
which made me want to weep.