One For Sorrow

A lone avian oracle

Is all she'll ever know,

From when the spiteful air 

Takes hold

Of her weeping new born throw. 

Each croak-throated,

Brazen bawl

Etches a scribbled tale,

In chalk of twisted memories 

Upon her foot bare trail.

As its bloat-necked,

Scarring scream

Marks every broken-kneed fall,

Laying vocal flagstones

To the depths assigned her soul.

The sparkling jewels of childhood,

lost with faded love,

As the fragile breath

Of wedded bliss

Plucks feathers from her plume.

Her budding heart on

Moonlit night,

Will break as chorus caws,

When new found partner wanders

To Flocks of childish haste.

And when her bed is laden

With nestlings of her own,

The frail bough on which

She rested

Will blow to mudded ground.

When time has grayed her tresses

And life has lined her skin,

The single voice in

Darkness cries

Of isolations scorn.

In empty home of twigs and Stone

she'll wait for evenings song,

And pray

For warmer tidings,

The rest of weary bones.

Then Stagnant ground will hold her shell

Soft knell with sound her end,

And feathered foe will

Bid farewell

Upon her solemn tomb.