Bird Poem by Rebecca Stansfield
Bird
Sweeping down merrily,
And stinging his tail,
Tired and dying,
Flying, worryingly.
Wings clipping in his cry,
A thorn in his wing,
I watch and I am helpless,
And the bird's still in his denial.
And he clips his wings, his tail is bitten,
And still in his denial,
Where he is tired but carries on,
Withered, when these words are written.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
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5/10/2024 5:20:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
