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It has been said that we are,
A quiet, curious, sweet bird, full of personality;
We have tons of sisters (brothers) and a mom and father with no feathers,
Love our seed, food scraps and treats given daily;
Feel loved, protected and cuddled, so we lay an egg or two each day,
Our biggest fear is becoming dinner;
Would like to live to be over 20 years old,
Resident of grandpa's farm;
Barnyard chickens.

When I was a small girl, my grandpa had a little farm,
It was not a working farm but a retirement dream of his;
He had some animals like horses, chickens and even a donkey,
But, I truly loved his chickens they were super-duper sweet.

Our father was a nice old man called grandpa,
And there was mother grandma, who brought treats;
But, we loved the little girl the best because she cuddled us,
From the time we were fat little handfuls of adorable cuteness.

They were such happy birds, extremely calm,
When I would bring their seed they would come running;
Clucking all the way, so talkative, cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck,
They were cuddly with feathers beautifully soft and lovely.

It was a wonderful, peaceful existence for us chickens,
Grandpa's farm was full of interesting places to go;
Like grandma's garden patch and she would come running,
Chasing us with her broom but laughing, so we knew she loved us.

Oh, time has passed, the pages turned, and turned,
Grandpa and grandma are in their heavenly realm now,
And I am not a small girl anymore, but a city girl all grown-up,
After grandpa died, grandma sold the farm, animals and chickens.

But, I will always remember those inquisitive, beautiful birds.

____________________________
February 20, 2016

Poetry/Verse/Barnyard Chickens
Copyright Protected, 16-759-828-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

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