The Song of the Bird

As the night turns into day
And the dawn kisses the blushing sky
Dewdrops caress the gentle grass
A little bird dares to fly

Frail wings try to glide
But luck does not seem kind
The little bird fails to fly
But no, it does not seem to mind

The little bird tries to fly
As the wind slips through the trees
It tries to carry its weight, but in vain
Against the earth, against the breeze

Determination fuels the bird
As it tries again and again
Even though it fails seem to rise
It tries again, now numb to pain

The sky, painted in shades of plum
With shimmering stars to bejewel the night
The little bird is on its branch
Now exhausted, but taking one last flight

The Earth pulls the little bird down,
But it does not succumb
Flaps its wings against the breeze,
Its heart now beating like a drum

Up it goes, carrying the weight
Feathers flying against the breeze
Up it goes, fighting the sharp air
Its body now flying with ease

Fragile wings reinforced with strength
The little bird flies without resent
For all the times it fell from the sky
It now flew to its heart’s content

The night sky, now velvety black
The clouds enrobed in silver
The little bird rode the wicked wind
No hesitation, not one quiver

The little bird glides through the air
Velvet dusk against its wings
Oh, the joy it feels to be one with sky
Finally, the little bird sings

Ananya.N.S ©