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Sep 2010
Hey hey black bird,
Picking off the pavement.
What a life you must have,
Flying at whim,
Sitting in branches.
Why do you burn your feet on this pavement?
Why do you hunt for bits in this man made waste land?
A black top lot is no place for you black bird.
I wish I could join you, soar away,
Alone, but not lonely.
Ruffle my glossy black feathers in the morning dew,
This is no place for you black bird,
Fly away for those of us who can't.
SJ Stine
Written by
SJ Stine
561
   Sydney Victoria
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