The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - Fettered birds
M A Heathcote
A magpie caws outside my shuttered room.
He feels the cold January, bloom!
But I care not a fig if he is fed.
As long as the rhyme, breaks the bread:
Who cares if our feathered friend lies dead?
Or even if these solemn words:
The sounds of mysterious fettered birds...
Should ever reach; insides your head.