( I.P.) Oxymoronically Speaking

The tiny bird, weighed heavy
in his hands; parting was such
sweet sorrow for this weak tyrant
and his tame, wild sparrow;

a man, who had seldom been at peace
unless he was fighting; who, sadly,
had only been young forever...once.

A man, who knew, by inexperience,
the most effective way to lead folk,
is to walk, two steps behind...

that not to take risks, was riskier,
by far, than taking them; famous
for never having said of his enemies,

'They had all the virtues he abhorred,
and none of the vices he admired’.

But today, out of necessity, he must
be cruel to be kind. He shivers;
it was as cold as hell out there!

The bird’s heaven, would be
his purgatory, but he must
set it free; a standing duck
in its cage as it had been...

this man, deaf as a post, who hears
children, laughing, as two kids
with an air-gun, run off...

slowly, into a breaking dusk
as the sun sinks high in the sky.

“A joke is a very serious thing
he shouts!” softly, in front of them,
as the bird bids him a fond, ‘Hello’;

flies off into a falling dawn
as the young, old man speaks of love
and never says a word.