There’s bird poo on my window ,
It’s been there a while ,
I’m wondering what the bird was thinking ,
was it personal?
Did it smile ?
Was it a gift a reminder I’ll be back ?
Could he not wait .
Were his feathers singed and black ?
Did he fly up to
those blue skies soaring ,
unto the sun to find love ?
Was he hungry at the time ,
or had he just  eaten ?
for my tea is at the table ,
I fear it’s too late ?
Did the cruel winds just blow it off track ?
Was he fighting for freedom against the magpie or the jay ?
Did it see it’s reflection in my window ,
then fly away ?
For what ever reason ,
that bird still sings it’s song ,
first thing in the morning,
before the blackbird can sing along .
Before tea is set in my front room ,
I’ll still leave a knife and fork for thee ,
so he can sit along beside me and keep me company.

Then i heard a soft thud on my window ,
again again and again ,
the noise just would not stop .
I drew the curtain to one side ,
to see my bird against the Paine .
I opened my window,
and in it flew ,
for it was hungry just the same ,
pulled up a napkin and there we were ,
going insane.!