A rare bird makes a fragile nest on a fruitless tree top

'Hey! Brother is it a crash landing on my broken runner way? '
The decaying tree whispered.
'Not exactly my dear, I too do not have strong wings to this endless sky.
Let the wind blows.
At least we can talk each other in the sleepless nights.'
The old migrant bird replied.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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