Mundane Topics Poem by Elizabeth Sheaffer

Must poems always be about love, or hate?
Must they always mention God, or fate?
I want to write a poem that's new
But something you can still relate to.

There once was a bird, sitting upon a limb.
A small, baby bird; his mother behind him.
He peered o'er the nest, to the ground far below.
His mum, she pushed him off, and watched him go
Down, down, further still, until he hit the bottom
The baby bird was just an egg, one that had turned up rotten.