He stands there, and watches me.
Fearful eyes that have to look.
Turned his head, trembling a bit.
People forget him; not new.
He probably has babies.
He's looking like a father.
Maybe they are hungry.
Nearby might be the mother.
I move to give him some food.
He got too scared, that he flew,
For he was a little bird.
(July 19, 2012)
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Poetry Collection
PoetryA collection of the poems I wrote and the dates when I wrote them.
