The bird seemed to follow my roving eye As he walked beyond where I lie He seemed to know, with eye I spy - Sitting there that day. He never seemed to have a care No matter for how long I stared Or how controlling was my glare He was there, it seemed, to stay He gave out a little chirp Like page from a book, like an excerpt Like a song performed at a concert He flapped from chair to chair He was regal in nature, and replete He'd had a little bit to eat He walked with ease, with those clawed feet As I got the camera out I realised the camera was obsolete My phone would do better, would always beat The phone's quality, the camera couldn't meet Of that I had no doubt The bird stood atop the chair, to reflect I told him; 'stay there, don't neglect' Attention sent, ne'er deflect To bird sitting on the floor The bird, he turned, to his right Knowing the bird on the floor was within sight He waved his wings, as if in flight Before he moved away Yet how was I to know he was a 'he' He could as well have been a 'she' So long as it was either 'he' or 'she' 'He' must be one or be the other Is this a poem or a diatribe? For until now I've not described What he (or she [or it]) looks like And how it came to be... I happened to be sitting in the rain Under cover, (heat was hot), the day the same Noiselessly the day begane And then continued on... As bird arrived, with clawed feet 'Hello', it seemed to say, 'we meet,' Though nothing was said when we greet We merely doffed our 'hats' Black and white, with long neck His eyes, no matter - oh, what the heck! I still don't know, not now, not yet Perhaps I never will But somehow this bird seemed a friend The way he'd look and turn his head It's hard explaining, even when I knew he wouldn't stay He looked at me, right in the eye Turned his head from left to right Never went out of my sight Well, not now at least, Not yet Looking me right in the eye Makes me wonder; 'Heavens, why?' I didn't push, I didn't pry To find the colour of his eyes That day when we met No matter whether rain or shine With me laying, sitting, there, he's fine Never once did he whinge or whine We talked 'bout little things 'Bout the simple things in life Weather, health, things of that type Simple things bring pleasure, like Bring happiness and fun He's my bird, I hope you see Black and white, he sat with me Not away on some pine tree But close to where I lay My bird finally flew away I said; 'bird, I'll see you another day Even if I'm far away - I'll know just where you are.' I returned and saw you 'round the bend Beaked, clawed, winged, my feathered friend We greeted, like only we Could comprehend - Our story - Close the book... The end.