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The Waking Bird

Good morning, the waking bird
How was your night?
It has become every day
You knock my window plane;
I’m sorry for bothering you to keep me sane

You come and go with a note of waking
When am still snoring
The rising sun attests to your courage
Showing you in my cracked window plane
I gently croon ‘Two Little Black Birds’

I hear the flap of your feathers
When I chorus the poem
Come and take the helm

The first day you came I cringed in terror
Because you come with a look of horror
Your horny claws are good at horology
Design on my window plane as a travesty,
Of time

You come to know if I’m awake
How was your night?
It has become every day
You come near my window
To say good morning

I waited all night
To say good night.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

of where this one is going. I think that you are trying to say that you were afraid all night to see the birds in the morning and
you couldn't sleep until you saw them? ~ Geezer.
.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

I like your comment.

"Words are currency of ideas and have the power to change world. Ride your pen on the rough road."

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