What a Bird Thought

I lived first in a little house,

And lived there very well ;

The world to me was small and round

And made of pale-blue shell.

I lived next in a little nest,

Nor needed any other ;

I thought the world was made of straw,

And covered by my mother.

One day I fluttered from the nest,

To see what I could find.

I said, “The word is made of leaves;

I have been very blind.”

At last I flew beyond the tree,

And saw the sky so blue;

Now, how the world is really made

I cannot tell – can you?

3 thoughts on “What a Bird Thought

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