sparrow

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his wings flap against the breeze
his friends coming and going as they please

his tail gliding through clouds
as they gather up in great white crowds

he swoops low and then flies right
the urge to not soar takes all his might

for the storm is soon coming in
the clouds heavy with rain now turning on him

his feathers bristle
as the once soft wind starts to whistle

and without warning the water begins to pour
the nature below begging for more

but not the bird no he is shaking
as the sky above him continues in quaking

thunder rattles his weary bones
the raindrops that pelt him the size of stones

and then the lightning hits
scattering him of all his wits

he begs for help as he drops
his eyes now set on the water filled crops

but nobody answers his call
and soon the bird is nothing at all

its okay little sparrow,
even the greatest fall.

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