Oct 14, 2015, 8:23 PM

Birds 

  Poetry
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the early bird catches the worm
the early bird catches the warm
birds are the first migrants
a little bird once told me
bird dogs are not the real tyrants
no one leaves without a reason
birds are pushed by a season
a cold wind or a harsh storm
no one finds this to be a treason
now migrants come into season
birds and wind are forever gone
rebirth and rewind and still alone ...

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