The Bird’s Precious

Wooden sticks

Held together by spit

Sat on an old tree


A barren nest

No eggs

Or cracked shells even

Just wood

And spit


The bird

Felt empty

She had no mate

She had no chicks

She was barren

In heart


And soul

So she began

To try to fill the void

Will shiny things

Bits of glass

And coin


In the sun


It was her heart

A ruby

Cold and empty

But red

With the blood

Of want


She wanted

She needed

Shiny things

It was

Her all

So what

If she had no mate

No chicks

She had

Her little



She was constantly trying to fill

Her heart

Her nest was so full of glass and metal

It was getting too heavy

For the tree bough.

When the bird sat in her own nest

She was cut by glass

Sharp cuts, she could endure

For her heart’s light


The glass

Her jewels

Her precious

Her pretties

They magnified

The sun

And the nest

With the ruby inside

Started to burn

An acrid scent

Filled the air


The bird

Tried to save

Her precious

Lifting them


But the nest was burning

And all she had gathered

Was burning hot

It didn’t need her

But she

Needed it


She tried to carry it away

The ruby heart

But is shattered on the ground

As her nest was destroyed by flames

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