that morning

i was dazed

the sky was downcast

like a flower soon to fade

i was up but not yet awake

like a dried stream waiting for rain

and upon my window sill

a dainty nightingale came

she sang and sang

until I asked what she willed

i had no room in my heart

so full of untold misery

yet I let her in

she sang tunes merrily

from morning till eve

soon this heart got used to the oddity

i fed and fed

from what little i had

so enchanted was I

forgot i needed fed myself

soon i realized

she left me for hours

after having her fill

and I was left starved

and then i was the one singing

wishing she’d come back

mornings reduced to nights

with me trapped beyond will

i started leaving grubs in a tin

outside my window sill

many others came

seldom did she

and then one day

when i was desperate and sick

for the rustic nomadic

i cried a river, and drank my fill

for I had learnt

that she had left me

and found another lone heart

to mess and meddle with