The two red birds

Two red birds were playing happily,
Mother bird teaching daughter bird,
To fly high and to fly low,
A home they made,
In the garden,
Filled with exotic jasmines,
And blooming ginger butterfly,
Little did they know of the evil trap,
Hidden beneath those tiny branches covered with the white blooms,
The trap which could bury them alive,
Out flew the red birds,
Changing their fate unknowingly,
Flying high and flying fast,
Loosing the way,
Crossing many trees,
Hopping on many tinned roofs on the way,
And landing on a branch,
Tired and lost,
Slowly sensing the fragrance and beauty of the blooming magnolia,
Watching the beautiful view of the trickling stream,
Feeling at home,
Getting the strength to rebuild a new nest.

~The End~

An Experimental attempt to put thoughts in writing by Monica Ingudam.