Poetry

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It is freezing out here. My feet are

clinging to the shingles as I sit all

alone. I dare not open my beak to sing

a song. I have no friends or loved ones

to share; only the warmth of the chimney

for my despair. It is beginning to sleet.

I silently wait for the mistress to come

out from her suite;In the cold to share.

“There you are my little friend.” “ Look what

I brought you today.” “It’s your favorite

food you see.” “ Eat your fill for a long

and cold night waits for thee.” I eat my

fill and return to the roof. What lonely

hours I wait. The sun is going down,my

heart full of dread . Once again it’s

fate. A sparrow alone on the rooftop.


I am the mistress of the house . I have no

friends or loved ones to share .The warmth

of the fireplace is my only comfort in my

despair. As I sit here alone in my room;

the thought of the long hours ahead brings

me gloom. I long for someone to hold me,

but those days have long been passed.

All my loved ones have gone on before me;

I am the last. Old age and the toil of this

fate has made me so very cold. Just like the

sparrow alone on the rooftop; my life has

been told.

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