A little Birdie
By 1stpoet
A little Birdie A little birdie pooped on my hand flew away to the curtains to land then again deposited green but yet is the prettiest birdie I’ve seen she sings and plays as we sit on the couch on her perch she never does slouch what lands does this bird-brain see in sleep writing a poem about birdie (man that is deep) yellow she is and looks like a PEEP on Sunday mornings she wakes me from sleep what is it like to live on water and seed and to have a human fulfill every need she does not like kisses, or to be touched she will bite your nose if you bug her too much but on your finger she will contentedly sit although if startled her wings she will flit then off to the cage she will go in a hurry feathers flying in such a flurry then chiming her bells and climbing her rings this amusement such pleasure it brings yes little birdie you are given love a little parakeet, no not a dove sing again your beautiful song for of melodical music yes I do long William S. Dawes April 5, 2002 © Copyright 2002 1st Poet Inc. Written April 8th, 2002 © on Apr 08 2002 08:36 AM PST 0 • 14
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"A little Birdie..."