The walking bird
Their claw grasped the trunk of an old-leafy tree,
Under few fallen leaves lies a flock of birds asleep;
A sudden bang disturbed the peaceful chirping melody,
Some died, few flee, leaving a wounded bird on steep:
Silence: his wings are bent and broken: he can`t fly.
He found himself lying on the grimy forest floor alone,
Dazed and bewildered as the blues escape from his eye;
He attempted to fly, but wind left his wings unblown,
No one and no wings to rely on but thy,
An oath made to his heart while looking in the dark sky.