I mean the real bird. the ones you can see in the sky. Not through the phone and laptop, computer or whatever shit thing you have.
Remember those thing which fly. yes that.
A poem, a tribute, more of a poem to those things that fly.
Soaring with the wind across the sky,
Swiftly and elegant, you do fly.
Blazing are the colours of your feather,
With which you hug, Oh caring mother.
Missing the hunter's bullet, you seem fearless,
Which in you I do admire, must confess.
Gliding in the sky side by side,
You flock together like maids behind a bride.
(for those who couldn't imagine the bride part here is the photo to help :P )
Sadly you do suffer due to pollution,
With no place left than the ocean.
People feel you are wild yet free,
But here you are homeless without a tree.
( I'm putting this photo up because i want to):
You do seem to be graceful and wild,
but in real, oh so mild.
Grace, you do all to mother nature,
Without you is there a future?
(And another picture):
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