The Thoughts of a Mediocre (I)

A Sparrow perched upon me.

Shifting, groaning uncomfortably

I hoped its company be brief.

 

Not for any hidden grudge,

But for my rifts and slits and splits,

My jagged chinks and missing links,

That parade my insignificance.

 

Yet came a mighty wind,

And frantic clasps and desperate grasps

Of young Sparrow’s feet.

And so.

My rifts and slits and splits,

My jagged chinks and missing links

Might not be a beauty,

But through them

At least I found,

That Sparrow kept his ground.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741