Bird Ballad
By Walter Burns
A bird was born to take its flight Against the Wind to weave A nut, a corn, a bit of seed If none then he will leave My soul is pecked by speckled beak And bathed by now a lark Who sings a song of mischief- love? That finds me in the dark Yet sightless eyes I still can hear The Wind blows whispered words You sing a song to fill my heart As trees fill up with birdswill prolly come back to add and fix it...its an assignment for class Written February 6th, 2002 © on Feb 06 2002 02:43 PM PST 0 • 10
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"A bird was born to take its flight ..."