Song bird

A song bird, the resident of honey suckle bush, 

One day the coldish weather shook her motionless,

Underside the tallest hill of the hindu kush,

The dusky evening drew to her a despair

And the toilsome night sneak off in her eye.

She under went the moments like a solitaire

Within her tight skirts she was fallen, 

With her silver head down towards the bush,

And waste out all her golden pollen,

By the morning, when a poughman passed by the bush.

He found, a cry in her dim and dull eye.

The gentleman pointed her way 

to his sleeve by a push.

Afterward the warmth, the bird felt like a parental 

Love by one eye. and hung on him like a pet cat.

On the next day when Ploughman,

Went out to plough his barley field.

The warm bird stayed on his shoulder,

He was a solitary man and did bore none,

Chanting, spring songs all the day, 

the charlie! learned:

And he groomed and loved her the year long.

The plougman's nickname was painter Jan, 

And this way, all his sorrows fade away.

The guy was a Caucasian rocky man,

From miles away, the spring came.

Straight to his house, through 

the bird, a gypsy rose.

By virtue, how tenderly the love grows.

©AffaqNaibe