Emerald feathers would caress me
For a promising good morning
While a booful beak would squirm
With the art of perfection
The way he adored seasonings
That matched his skin and soul
And his little mild leaps
Could leave a beast in awe
The few vowels he uttered
In reality were a ballad, however
The lone perceiver couldn’t predict
That it was time for an elegy
He once confided, he longed to flap
Not to escape, but hold on
Show the world he had winds
When he only wished for air
His fellow flocks would poke fun
And others eyed his beauty
But now he’s soaring high
High above the heavens
~Poem 1
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| A tribute to a wonderful birdie (Picture credits: National Geographic) |
