Oct 27

The sparrow

Upon my windowsill, this window by the door--a bright sparrow sat, his eyes trained onthe floor 

Beside him, then, the curtains billowed from their perch, joining his eyes by the sill, peering over 
the edge and filling out, the sweetness of air in their girth

This sparrow, now, he stays and sighs and sways,spins his wings through molten gold and their rays 
About the Author: infinitelyinfinite3
Brown person, LGBTQIA+ member, overthinker, and book and music lover. I am not afraid of the Oxford comma, and you shouldn't be, either. ;)