The Crooked Nest

The landlord called, a dripping tap,

and in the shed, a broken trap

for feathered hopes, my crooked nest.

A birdhouse, failing every test.

I found it there, behind the rake,

a promise that I couldn't make.

A tiny nail, gone way off course,

its splintered wood, a silent curse.

The roof, it lay there upside down,

a funny, sad, lopsided crown.

No little bird ever got in,

just clumsy starts, a clumsy sin

of trying hard, then giving up.

Just broken bits, a bitter cup.