It sat on the ledge of my fifth-floor dorm
And looked into my room
Like a pet store display
I do not know what it thought
But it flew away quickly
And I saw a blue jay in a yard
Its white specks matched the light frost
And it bounced around,
Pecking at the ground
It was not my plot of land
But I still felt proud
And I saw a goldfinch at our home
It ate the seeds in our yellow bird feeder
And looked content enough
To ignore my intrusion
I hope it will decide to bring friends
When I refill the feeder
And I saw one of the blackbirds
That I helped raise in its youth years ago
And it flew over me
While singing its blackbird blues
It was good to know that
The birds still care back
My planet orbits a black hole, which has
already taken most of our solar
system's planets. Our sun, the ball of gas
that once lit the sky, is now a goner.
Scientists say we have sixty-three years
before we cross the point of no return.
The event horizon, our greatest fear,
will make the black hole our deep dark void urn.
How am I supposed to go on with life,
knowing that no matter what I do, it
won't matter? That for all my woes and strife,
it will all be destroyed in cosmic fit?
I've never seen the sun, but all the light
in all of space can't make my future bright.