The dying bird

Written by: Sherwin Balbuena

I knew I did nothing but to sing, to fly, to alight happily on a branch of a tree. Did my song hurt you? Did I make something bad as I perched and flew? I knew I did nothing but to sing, to fly, to alight happily on a branch of a tree Why did you throw a deadly stone towards me as I sang my favorite song? I moaned as I feel. The pain was too strong I beg, before you toast me let me first say: "Oh, I'll miss you, my song, for I can't sing you anymore. "Oh, my friend Lonely Tree, I'm sorry to tell you that I can't be with you to make you happy everyday. "Oh, my friend Strong Wind, keep on blowing even if you don't feel my wings, for I can't fly with you again."