CWTF II - A Dead Sparrow

Eyelids slowly flicker open
To take in a roughly painted teal wall
In soft focus with a vague familiarity
Tacked up Polaroids and rosary beads
Can't quite feel the floorboards
Of a now recognizable bedroom
In a once childhood home
Step out of the backdoor
Welcomed by a gusty wind
Surveying a scene of flailing sycamores
And the splintered stems of foxgloves
A strangled howl bursts from the creaking kennel
Hidden somewhere in the depths of the backyard
It causes the heart to freeze in the cavern of the chest
Place one foot infront of the other
In time with the rattle and stomp of rusted chains
A fluttering tawny bird flies alongside
With a deep crimson seeping from it's wounded breast
It chirps a taunting round, slightly off-key
"We want our dead dogs back"