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Sparrow

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“Is that you? It’s very typical of him” she replied.
“I don’t know. Do I qualify his traits?” I asked while laughing at myself. 
The way you manifested within me poses a perplexing continuation of eternal existence. You are akin to a night train relentlessly coursing through rain-soaked woods that seem to have no end. However, you reemerge, much like a desert train traversing the vast expanse of a magnificent desert.
Wind lulls the leaves and there she sleeps under the giant oak. 
Ruth, buried under the yellow bed of leaves,  
a sparrow still sings the swan song for you.

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