Little Bird

These things always come to me, and I was filled with an urge to write a poem for Sansa. Bear with me on the details, because I haven't finished reading her story, and I don't know what will become of her one day.

I once held stories;

A tale of lovers stolen through the night,

The evil in-law dashed against the rocks,

Their children destined to rule a summer kingdom,

But the truth of these tiers is naught.

 

I once relied in make-believe,

Assumed in promises

Sworn to hold me safe.

Prettied up in silks,

Roses on my bodice,

A net of precious stones in my hair,

I am a little bird in a tapered net,

Wings clipped and beak bent,

A glimmer of despair

You may only ever glimpse.

 

I was a wolf

A sigil to be proud of,

Fierce and wild and true,

And once I adorned a lion-

A radiant diamond,

And the soft adorning gold-

The lithe and bleating lamb.

But now I am a portion.

Like a cake

Drawn and quartered

Abridged to be worn,

Beat and consumed.

 

I am a bird

And will sing.

Say all the right words,

Do all the right things,

And fasten my likeness to a stone.

I once felt warmth,

In my heart and on my hands

But winter is coming;

And I feel naught but the cold.

The End

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