A bird’s Life


This is one of my earliest surviving poems.


I have a bird named Pinto
He was named that because
of his spots.

Pinto used to have a
named Charley

It was a life hate

Those two birds
bickered all the time.

One day, Charley flew away.

Never to be found again.

Since then Pinto has
become a living
alarm clock.

Pinto hears things
and tries to imitate
the sounds.

I wish I knew
what he was
trying to Say?

Maybe Pinto
is speaking to
Charley while
he’s gone?