a sparrow

she sat within strong walls made out of stone.
in the tallest tower she did sit by
her fortress’ lone window, through which would fly
a sparrow, sole company for she, alone.
for the hard walls were of rock and mortar sewn,
and not through door nor balcony could she try
to leave; touch soft earth with bare feet and sigh
the sigh of one so long fairing on her own.

her only source of hope was the sparrow,
small and free and knowing the taste of cloud
and wind in the leaves; until on sill she scraped
her knee, for grasping in her yet narrow
mind, the bird had lifted from her a shroud—
she found she could fly, and at last she escaped.