The Lost Garden

Birds are chirping on branches Hidden behind the foliage Their tiny tails hitting the leaves Hopping around from branch to branch Sometimes I can see their colors Olive green and white The wind blows and they leave I hope they will come back soon Watching the little birds playing Breathing the air just born from the leaves More meaningful than books Written by famous professors with many titles Holding you and kissing your cheeks You haven’t shaved for a few days Your spiky beard stings my lips We are in a corner of the lost garden