The Stain
no wind ever flowed under that wing
hint of a beak that never held a twig
the tiny mass I returned to Earth
maybe only couple days after her birth
the wound on my porch refuses to tell
how the baby bird slipped and fell
left the blood for the clouds to rain
and wash the crimson stain
Written on:07/26/2016
Contest:Crimson by Royal Ninja
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