To a man, the death of a bird, <br />There's no meaning in that word, <br />For birds do live or die, <br />Matters little to the human eye. <br /> <br />To me the death of a bird, <br />Ushers a touch of gloom in that word, <br />A depressed sense of sorrow, <br />Deep in my heart o'er a sparrow. <br /> <br />Of all the places around, <br />How the little sparrow found, <br />A roof-hole for its groom, <br />In my busy office room? <br /> <br />They both settled inside, <br />The tiny nest of their pride, <br />Flirting and searching, <br />Caressing and perching. <br /> <br />Their shrill and sharp noise, <br />As they flew across, <br />Tilted my mental peace, <br />Keeping me ill at ease. <br /> <br />My superior complex forbade, <br />Their trespass o'er my head, <br />Out they flew, at my chase, <br />But back they came, in retrace. <br /> <br />Their unbreakable obstinacy, <br />Won o'er my supremacy, <br />As I got reconciled to them, <br />With the passage of time. <br /> <br />A straw or a feather drop, <br />From their tiny nest atop, <br />I threw out from my table, <br />Thereafter without a grumble. <br /> <br />What a shocking fatal day, <br />The ever remaining sparrow gay, <br />Fell dead, belly ripped open, <br />By the speeding ceiling fan. <br /> <br />There remains still the tiny hole, <br />And my past memories of the bird's role. <br />Lo, the bleeding lifeless sparrow's body, <br />Lies in state before me even this day.<br /><br />Rajaram Ramachandran<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-tear-for-a-bird/
