That Damn Sparrow
Built A Nest Under My Pillow
With Hair It Stole From My Brush
And Some White Sage
I Was Saving For Winter Solstice.
He Keeps Me Up At Night
Reminding Me Not To Cry
Over Broken Bird Eggs
Or Broken Hearts
Or Broken Promises
Or Broken Mirrors, And He Says
There Is No Such Thing
As Seven Years Bad Luck
Or Bad Dreams
Or Bad Karma
Or Bad Asses;
Only That Bad Things Happen
To Bad People.
Peeping And Pecking All Night,
We Finally Struck A Deal…
The Moonstone For My Pillow,
And As I Held The Milky White Stone For Him,
He Flew Inside,
Built A New Nest And Lives Happily
On A Chain Around My Neck.
I Loved That Sparrow