A tiny sparrow looked at me
From her perch upon a tree
Her expression was puzzled with eyes full of questions
But when I asked what was wrong she had no suggestions
I began to wonder what can bother a bird
Her songs are beautiful and sad tunes are not heard
Does she get caught up in drama or worry about her feathers and fluff?
Or could it be that she argues with her brother and thinks being the early bird isn’t enough?
Is a sweet, little bird bothered by trivial things?
Or are her troubles more serious matters, such as hurt wings?
I was then filled with wonder and questions
But when the sparrow looked at me I had no suggestions
Our worlds are separate, although the same
We speak the language of love and one is what we became