It is named Gor
The sky took pity of lone soul and gave a bird
to while away the time till a long leave.
The nestling has resigned itself with a resort
before the strength fills the frail feathered wings.
It hardly could rise up the head a weak ago.
There was just little hope it will survive.
I held it on my palm. Small eyes were closed.
The nestling sighed too heavily to up.
I forced the bird to eat. I forced the bird to drink.
I waited for improvement. Time went forth.
Through two long days the swallow opened the wide beak.
It asked for meal with a quiet tuneful song.
The swallow is becoming stronger day by day.
I try to set a liberty the growing bird,
but it's afraid of taking a new striking pain
as I'm afraid of leaving once alone...
by Thea Ariss
09.07.2025/15.07.2025
GOR
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125071506676
Свидетельство о публикации №125071506676
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