Song for the sparrows .

I will write a song for the sparrows,
To aid a rest and flap a wing,
From deep inside their hollow nests,
To cure the ache that the lone bird vests.

Love - a gin, to flow forever,
Makes me rise to ask the river,
Of how it could seem eternal,
And yet run out in time liberal.

Passion - a flower, the red rose desire,
Of the midnight kiss that turns a memoir.
The will to hold on and fly together,
Blind to that most, are not the same feather.

Hope - deceit, lemon sugar sweet.
The sour poison, that fuels defeat.
A friend to Loss - the nature's widower,
A bold mother that nurtures her younger.

Now I'll sing a song for the sparrows,
To all the ones that hold on to 'morrows,
The blades that cut the harder we press,
To numb ourselves to clear the numbness.

We may have, a million hopes,
In persons, things - shattered tombs,
But, maybe just don't nest and wither,
Maybe try to fly a little.