How can i say this?
my delicate chic…
where you were born to the stable henhouse
raised to peck, running around the stomping ground
spooned in the feathers of comfort at dusk
father there to cock-a-doodle the morn
familiar, the land of which you were born
one day you will be king
to raise the roost
it is your beautiful destiny
well some, such as i,
were born with wings to fly
born atop a functioning nest
to be fed from a mouth up high
raised vigilantly
to be set free amongst the wild
wide winged with a keen eye
it’s by chance we’ve met
that i should land here to rest
although seemingly intriguing and exotic,
a grand new fixture to adorn
when you beckon the sun
as a baritone cock
wings will spread
briskly flying
into the morn
How can i say this?
sweet little chic
although the same species,
some birds are meant to fly
