A lonely nest sat, at the top of the tree.
Thinking "why won't anyone live In me?
I was made with love and mud and sticks.
And after a storm they would mend me and fix.
I've sat here years now, slowly falling apart.
Not looking much like the original piece of art.
I may as well face it, I'm needed no more
Not from anyone who lived here before.
I shall close my eyes and sleep now
My time has come to take a bow.
But wait what is this? A bird has landed.
She is mending me and my life has suddenly expanded.
More sticks she's gathered, and moss twine and mud.
I never thought I could again look so good.
I'm no longer a nest lonely and old
For a kind bird mended me with her heart of gold.
For she needed not, a nest of her own and flew off again to her chicks at home.
A new family now, live in my breast.
They sing all day and made me their nest."
No comments:
Post a Comment