Whatever does the bluebird say,
In the dark morning of every new day?
Its bright titters, and tweets brighten the sad.
The pretty, cheery sounds it makes are quite glad.
He pounces upon branches, hopping away.
But, makes a stop, to greet the blue jay.
His nimble feet jump to the ground.
By its wondrous beauty, I was surely bound.
The sounds of other birds, so soft,
But even the slightest noise sends him aloft.
He eats the scattered seeds, on the soft land.
Of, what went wrong, what he had not planned,
was the alarming creature approaching, from his place on a mat,
An ornery being, with its grey eyes shining... It was a cat!
It crept toward the terrified bird, in pleasure.
The bird flew away, as fast as he could, to his nest, where he had a fine treasure.
The little birds chirped in curiosity, as a foreign animal climbed up the tree.
I would not like to finish this poem, but I must, for you, not me.
The cat went away with a tasty treat,
and the air was filled with a sorrowful tweet.
I'm sad to say that the bird is passed on.
Laying cold, and dead on the lawn.
Of, what went wrong, what he had not planned,
was the alarming creature approaching, from his place on a mat,
An ornery being, with its grey eyes shining... It was a cat!
It crept toward the terrified bird, in pleasure.
The bird flew away, as fast as he could, to his nest, where he had a fine treasure.
The little birds chirped in curiosity, as a foreign animal climbed up the tree.
I would not like to finish this poem, but I must, for you, not me.
The cat went away with a tasty treat,
and the air was filled with a sorrowful tweet.
I'm sad to say that the bird is passed on.
Laying cold, and dead on the lawn.
Very, very well done!
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