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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1525099
My babies are growing up.
Parenting

I feed my birds on a daily basis,
The seed is ten dollars a week.
I gladly give to these hardship cases,
their colors and gladness I seek.

And then, the spring: my heart is broken,
as feeders swing silent and full of seed.
I should be happy, their colors have spoken,
my gifts, they no longer want or need.

But then I hear a chirp and a song,
and smile inside as I wake,
I know it won't take very much long,
'fore the birds sing, for the chick's sake.





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To my daughter Jacki, who ran away
with her boyfriend on her 18th birthday.
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© Copyright 2009 Dan Sturn (dansturn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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