Friday, May 2, 2014

My Sweet Jasper

The blind crow calls into the howling wind. Unable to be heard; never will again.
He's a sad sight to see, my blind crow friend.
All wings and sadness; a melancholy air lays upon him.
I whisper to him, all my thoughts and my dreams.
He knows how it feels to have the world's weight upon his fragile shoulders.
My blind crow friend caws at me, consoling.
I understand and protect him; I will to the end.
Jasper is his name, my sad little friend.
Perspective, he thinks, as I cry into his feathers.
"Remember that Jasper once could see the night's twinkling stars."
Now there is only darkness, I think, with tears sparkling.
I can no longer cry that the day was trying, when some can not see the day at all.
Jasper cawed at me, the smart little bird,
and I knew that everything would be okay.

Jasper flew away that day.
I miss my tiny, sweet bird friend.

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