There's a green wide eyed bird of spring that stares at me every morning
He looks at me with his protruding piercing eyes
Never blinks nor moves stationary like the sands of the Sahara
He whistles a song that echoes through my brain
A scene only valid in spring made for the eye to admire
He seems to live within the moment staring heavily
Come visit me this fine spring day as I gaze back at my friend.