Sweet Bird

She, coyly, at the break of dawn, sings.
Her honeyed voice graces my ears.

She flaps, she dances, she plays, she giggles,
All these, I'm left breathless.

Petite, sweet bird, she dresses,
So natural, simple elegance, fresh as flower

She sings, I whistle, she sits,
A top a tree, castle I dream, we hold hands.

poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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