Birdy Poem by Igor Balatsky
Birdy
She was young.
And she was a beauty.
But she could not fly at all.
Helpless and lonely she was.
She got attached to me as only
a bird could be attached to its tree.
But you know, any bird needs the sky.
So I clapped my hands and made her fly.
I gave her wings - and set her free.
She was twenty. And I was forty.
Watching
her fly now I clearly see:
I had fallen in love
with a birdy.
I used to call her 'my flamingo'...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/16/2024 11:37:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
