Where had I heard this sound? Wicked wanton man!
Built without pities huge cities, concrete sty
These forests can't give what the real forest can
Homes to small creatures, bit of earth, or blue sky
Searching, like searching tree-bough nesting room
Than nesting in a junkyard, car engine grate
I spotted one flitting in her new-world doom
Clean forgotten those, sparrows, rare seen late
My eye, that one in my heart wept in vain
For her prayerful songs to polluted skies
Where I thought her voice would crack with the strain
Chirped so, to be heard above the city noise
Note: For Westly...Unable to write much now but on my way through a car graveyard I was inspired .....by you.