The Little Black Bird
The Little Black Bird
Along my path of life one day,
I saw a bird who seemed astray.
His feathers sleek and black as night,
Though looked as if he’d crashed mid flight.
Through dark and rain, he would not look at me,
Though he had eyes as green as the sea.
I bent toward him, expecting him to fly.
The little bird shivered, but made no reply.
I knew it best to leave him be,
But he shook and shivered as his little sides heaved.
So I scooped him up and took him home with me.
Little black bird so fragile and wee.
In the spare back room, I made up a bed,
And two small dishes so he could be watered and fed.
I drew up the blinds, to let the sun in.
Before they stayed down so the room was quite dim.
My cats loomed skeptically near the door,
That room had been empty for eight months or more.
But now it was the bird's, and his alone.
He became the interest of my little sad home.
My days became exclusive to the little black bird.
I disappeared from my life, without even a word.
As his strength returned, I began to believe,
That despite his condition, he wished not to leave.
Some days he sang sweetly when he saw me.
He even fluttered up to perch on my knee.
We sat together as the days flew by.
He seemed content, so I never asked why.
But one day it changed, a couple months in,
He stopped singing and acted quite grim.
For weeks on end, it was up and down.
I always wore a smile, but was hiding a frown.
My little black friend, who I held so dear,
Became so unhappy, it filled me with fear.
So to fix the problem, I cleaned up my place,
Threw my cats outside, he needed more space.
He fluttered about, and chirped with glee.
And finally settled down to perch on my knee.
I said,” That’s what you needed, I know just what to do!”,
“I’ll fix this place up so it fits right for you.”
I replaced some furniture with things he’d enjoy.
With perches and plants and little bird toys.
There was no place to sit, but I didn’t care.
With him singing so sweetly, no comfort could compare.
I thought things were fixed, I thought them okay.
But that all changed, one faithful day.
I came to our home, and opened the door,
Let out a small gasp as my keys hit the floor.
Perches and toys strewn this way and that.
Great mounds of loose dirt where the plants had once sat.
I walked in a bit further to find blinds ripped down,
Various things broken and scattered around.
I rushed into his spare room to see if he was there,
But the window was open and the room was quite bare.
I stood in silence as my cats crept in.
They meowed at my sadly and rubbed on my shins.
I put my face in my hands, and began to cry.
My mind was screaming, but all I could ask was ‘why’.
Forever it seemed until the tears would not come.
When I went to see the damage, I found myself stunned.
My cats prowled the house, sniffing around.
So I started to clean without making a sound.
When I was finished I was sad to find.
In only six months I’d left my own life behind.
Everything changed, all for that bird.
And now he was gone, without even a word.
As the days passed I often cried,
I tried my best to keep my mind occupied.
But everything in my house reminded me of him.
The chances of feeling normal appearing quite slim.
I missed his green eyes, and his lovely song.
But somewhere I think I knew all along..
He was just a bird, how could he fret?
He felt no compassion, love or regret.
So I threw away the entire bird mess.
Redecorated my house, let go of my stress.
I closed the door to my empty spare room,
Left the blinds open to ward off the gloom.
I stepped out on the path of life again,
Had just started to stroll down it, and then…
I saw the little black bird just like before.
He looked just the same, tiny and poor.
But instead of stopping I simply walked by.
And could swear that I heard him hop up and fly.
Beware, beware the little black bird.
To think him broken is positively absurd…
For he lacks compassion, love and regret.
But he’ll wind up lonely, on that you can bet.
-VertigoComplex
Along my path of life one day,
I saw a bird who seemed astray.
His feathers sleek and black as night,
Though looked as if he’d crashed mid flight.
Through dark and rain, he would not look at me,
Though he had eyes as green as the sea.
I bent toward him, expecting him to fly.
The little bird shivered, but made no reply.
I knew it best to leave him be,
But he shook and shivered as his little sides heaved.
So I scooped him up and took him home with me.
Little black bird so fragile and wee.
In the spare back room, I made up a bed,
And two small dishes so he could be watered and fed.
I drew up the blinds, to let the sun in.
Before they stayed down so the room was quite dim.
My cats loomed skeptically near the door,
That room had been empty for eight months or more.
But now it was the bird's, and his alone.
He became the interest of my little sad home.
My days became exclusive to the little black bird.
I disappeared from my life, without even a word.
As his strength returned, I began to believe,
That despite his condition, he wished not to leave.
Some days he sang sweetly when he saw me.
He even fluttered up to perch on my knee.
We sat together as the days flew by.
He seemed content, so I never asked why.
But one day it changed, a couple months in,
He stopped singing and acted quite grim.
For weeks on end, it was up and down.
I always wore a smile, but was hiding a frown.
My little black friend, who I held so dear,
Became so unhappy, it filled me with fear.
So to fix the problem, I cleaned up my place,
Threw my cats outside, he needed more space.
He fluttered about, and chirped with glee.
And finally settled down to perch on my knee.
I said,” That’s what you needed, I know just what to do!”,
“I’ll fix this place up so it fits right for you.”
I replaced some furniture with things he’d enjoy.
With perches and plants and little bird toys.
There was no place to sit, but I didn’t care.
With him singing so sweetly, no comfort could compare.
I thought things were fixed, I thought them okay.
But that all changed, one faithful day.
I came to our home, and opened the door,
Let out a small gasp as my keys hit the floor.
Perches and toys strewn this way and that.
Great mounds of loose dirt where the plants had once sat.
I walked in a bit further to find blinds ripped down,
Various things broken and scattered around.
I rushed into his spare room to see if he was there,
But the window was open and the room was quite bare.
I stood in silence as my cats crept in.
They meowed at my sadly and rubbed on my shins.
I put my face in my hands, and began to cry.
My mind was screaming, but all I could ask was ‘why’.
Forever it seemed until the tears would not come.
When I went to see the damage, I found myself stunned.
My cats prowled the house, sniffing around.
So I started to clean without making a sound.
When I was finished I was sad to find.
In only six months I’d left my own life behind.
Everything changed, all for that bird.
And now he was gone, without even a word.
As the days passed I often cried,
I tried my best to keep my mind occupied.
But everything in my house reminded me of him.
The chances of feeling normal appearing quite slim.
I missed his green eyes, and his lovely song.
But somewhere I think I knew all along..
He was just a bird, how could he fret?
He felt no compassion, love or regret.
So I threw away the entire bird mess.
Redecorated my house, let go of my stress.
I closed the door to my empty spare room,
Left the blinds open to ward off the gloom.
I stepped out on the path of life again,
Had just started to stroll down it, and then…
I saw the little black bird just like before.
He looked just the same, tiny and poor.
But instead of stopping I simply walked by.
And could swear that I heard him hop up and fly.
Beware, beware the little black bird.
To think him broken is positively absurd…
For he lacks compassion, love and regret.
But he’ll wind up lonely, on that you can bet.
-VertigoComplex