The Fledgling

 

I hear your persistant call,
as you sit upon that crumbling wall.
Softly feathered tiny bird
It's time to go have you not heard.

 

The nest is but a memory,
as you follow your parents from tree to tree.
'Hey mum hey dad come on feed me,
I'm hungry now I need my tea.'

 

A juicy bug crawls on the ground,
you approach it carefully without a sound.
Gobbling him up is no bother,
as overhead your parents hover.

 

Your confidence begins to grow.
You no longer need mum and dad in tow.
Off into the world you fly,
disappearing into the pale blue sky.

 

© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw