Little Birds

Little, little birds, come, come to me!
I call for them fondly from my house by the sea.
They come with flapping wings, bright eyes, smooth beaks,
their feathers sleek and soft, and filled with memories.

They squawked and they chirped and splashed about
like a little fleet of ducks in the bowl I left out.
They sang and they danced in that peculiar way of theirs.
They beat their wings and pecked their beaks
At that little bowl of seeds.

But my little feathered friends cannot
always be around.
When the sunlight shines on water
turning everything red
pink, orange and yellow,
What bright colours are they!
But with this comes the moment when
we all have to part.
And say goodbye
to songs and cries
from my little feathered friends.