My Words, My World

First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing

Old Birdman

Old Birdman sits and stares

Squinting in the sun

The sparrows eagerly await the moment

when he

Opens the white paper bag

placed upon his lap

They know him now

and his eating habits.

 

The bag rustles

He looks inside

No smile lights his face

as he takes out

the sandwich

Which he will share

 

They gather around his feet

never coming too close

awaiting the moment

he eats and drops the crumbs

He watches the pigeons on the grass

fed fat from passers-by

He hopes they stay where they are

and not chase his sparrows away.

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