The Bird Poem by Harold R Hunt Sr
The Bird
The bird
A little green bird flies to my window sill.
He sits so still that you think he is part of the window.
He watches the other birds fly by just moving very little.
He makes a sound as if to say I want to get out.
He then flies about with a cry so loud.
Then right back to the window sill.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: bird
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4/30/2024 2:11:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
