Summon of no answer

This is an observation through my window. A small group of boys after a bird, to kill it to be precise but could only hurt its wing,..nature seemed to disapprove of that endeavor came into play.

On that perch of dancing wonders of nature

On that frigid force shooting the fluff of its own kind

The sun takes pleasure in the warmth of the light shade

Sky roars render a fail to your lone whistle

No to enchanted mirrors of your like 

Voices of your own comfort silent

Your grip trembling that branch like chilled feet of bare street beggars

Their famished walks of no purpose

Your perch of no tomorrow

Your whistle bleeds of the last power against pre-ordered luncheon

Your whistle registers young overthrow

At the foot of your last protector, aimed are slings by small feet

All that is known to be true trembles

On that red sobbing stem

The crying skies attempt distraction

The sun hopes for the best in its hiding

The roars are fiercer by purpose

The winds are shouting by purpose

You are lost in your own lands of your own people

The young endeavor in the chill; dark; wind; and rain

Seen, you are not

Still, you are standing

Your own people in a fight only you will survive

Still, you are standing.

Author's Note

Read it and tell me what you think. Excuse certain errors