So from a high and lofty perch
love tumbled to the ground
and broke its legs and wings and “things”
that made it free to be.
Dirt got in its eyes
and it lay as one half dead
thinking it would mend
and reclaim its rightful place.
It gagged on mud and slush
in the season of its tears
and burnt from the inner out
in the season of its fears.
And in the cold of loneliness
it knew to not believe
the next season would uplift
the pain and agony.
How long it suffered I can’t say
but it dried beneath the feet of time
and lived just long enough
to know the coming down to ground
was its punishment!
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