Cornpuff

She wasn't a stray, but a sick yellow cockatiel, with speckled gray on her feathers. The pet shop was giving her away, I was in elementary school when I got her, she was a lovable bird and I enjoyed holding her. Very timid she was, you could sort of hear her purr. Not like a cat but in her own special way, I would leave her on my stomach as I watched her when I laid. She would look at me and still be rather bothered of the fast movements of my hand, and as a child I didn't know any better, but her frightened little yellow, orange cheeked face would stretch out and get skinny and that would make me laugh out so silly. She was still quite very sick and we kept her in a box, she didn't leave the house, she would ride on my shoulder or on my head. I noticed her feathers where rather ruffled and gloomy, so I decided to go outside and I think the light almost blew her mind, 'Cause she freaked out screamed! ..Well a little birdie squeal, and she jumped off onto the ground and in the grass she looked around. Thank goodness her wings where clipped, if not I would be a little girl crying for a bird she surely missed. And once again, since I was young this act had made me laugh. By golly corny puff, you're such a scaredy cat! But then I saw, when she calmed down, she looked up to the sky, she watched the sun, she watched the clouds, and nibbled the grass blades. I saw she was enjoying her small little escapade. So ever since then, I'd take her out and sometimes she'd get away, but she would always fly to the tree out front so I would have to get on my tippy toes and give her some guff. And as the years passed, we would go out less, cause as you get older life get's in the way. I would pet her on the head and off to school I fled, off to girlfriends, off to my boyfriend, off to an interview off to a job, and there Cornpuff stayed. She would wander the house and my dad got mad cause he stepped on her once, but luckily only her tail. We had a skylight and there she stand next to the fridge, looking at the light of the day. In the morning I would wake, to an odd scratching sound, there she was biting my shoes, rubber crumbs on the ground. Other days there's a tapping on the mirror, for she was trying to get her reflection and one time I looked down from my bed and there she was trying to get my attention! I would pick her up and leave her on my chest, picking on the dry skin on my face. I would fall asleep and soon would she, my best friend found her place.