Tue, 08/09/2016 - 23:40 -- sjp97

Up high in the trees, in the rustling leaves,

Sits a tiny magpie, collecting gold.

Bewitched by its gleam, and envied by thieves,

It sits high on its nest of treasures old.


But this crow is no good without his wife,

And the people do not envy loneliness.

So he sits on his nest of silver and strife,

His quest for his love assumed hopeless.


Across the city, sitting in her cage,

A small magpie gazes out her window.

She lost her love long ago to man’s rage,

So she sits and weeps and wishes to go.


Two lonely magpies sit in the city.

They wish for each other, not your pity.


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