Bird

One fine winter morn a little  bird perched on my window sill.

Its sweet twitter was the sweetest sound ever in my vicinity heard.

It was more black than the raw coal with a beak as yellow as a mustard field.

Its presence was enough to lift the pall of sorrow, 

Its chirping was a sure shot  promise of a happy and cheery tomorrow. 

The little bird was my guest for just a while as it gave no indication of prolonging Its stay.

No nothing whether a cup full of maize, corn or tempting wheat could interrupt its flight.

I had no other option  but to honour its right to flight.

I wish l could borrow its wings and reach the heaven to greet my long lost father from a distance may be.

Since, l knew that was something that wasn't ever supposed to be.

The only thing that my heart wished was to pray the little black bird with the yellow beak to sway,

Where lives my child and hum its sweet song all along his way.

The way on which he will have to tread upon all alone so far away from home ,

A place where in dreams only l can be

I wish the little black bird to flee.