| back to twig one |
the restless effort of a little bird adds beauty to the decaying world when it aptly collects twigs, brown and straws of bead, one by one it builds a nest mathematically precise not using any artificial device its beak works like tongs when its not singing songs its quest and zeal are its solution act like fuel, free from pollution it’s an architect, a musician and a bird, in compact cohesion its little feathers never rest always ready for any test and when wrong winds are blown they go 'back to twig one'
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Poetry |
Classic Collection |