The Babbling Brook

As the little bubbling brook is starting to flow.
The young sparrow calls out,
To his mother down below.
To look for the fireflies displaying their magnificent glow.

His mother not returning the sweet sound of life,
He whistled, he chirped, for hours on end.
But his mother couldn't respond, not in her strife.
He flew out of his tree above the dewy grass only to find a mysterious bend.

The Sparrow was always advised to stay were he can hear the bubbling brook,
He is yet to learn the forest is not safe.
He would easily be caught with one hard look.
He danced amongst the dazzling fireflies, slowly forgetting about the brook.

He noticed a tree branch, and landed softly.
He glanced around, he had gotten himself lost, he did not know where to look.
He knew if he needed to get out of here he had to do it swiftly.
No matter what he sung, the tune was only returned by the little bubbling brook.

He gave up searching, and tried to find his way back home.
Only to realise he was in unknown territory, where deadly creatures roam.
Flutter, Flutter. Goes the sparrows, faster and faster. They come to a halt.
Only for the forest to hear the only melody being played by little bubbling brook.