Fallen Sparrow

Below a glaring streetlamp lacking grace,

she stands with silver hair and reptilian eyes,

below a sky without a heaven,

a reckless young man meets her

after hearing her sirens croon,

her lullabies spun

behind creeping, dark shadows.

Her cold soul follows him into his inner sanctum.

The frailty of life. He joins the spinning in the sky.

Everything’s now still. An evil and foul silence.

She floats across the floor.

She touches the scrolls laid on his table.

Upon leaving, she extends her winter incisors,

and steps out between solid raindrops,

into our darkest world.

© Imbler, 2020