I would look at it and nod,
Knowing it had waited all day long like a true friend for me,
And soon we would be playing,
The sparrow would make small jumps
From the window sill to the broken cot at the corner of the
attic
To my shoulder, without any hesitation,
I would run my fingers over its tiny head-
It would close its eyes,
Enjoying every bit of my caressing,
In springs and summers
Our hours of play would extend beyond the sunset
sometimes,
Till the western sky would turn pinkish orange,
And the moon would arrive gently like a fairy;
244