Where's the pink-footed goose that evil-minded Warde
tried to catch? Didn't the bird follow his shrieking horde?
He was parched on the white oak over the small lake,
On Monday he was startled by the total solar eclipse!
Birds like their freedom, nobody should cage them;
they'll die a horrible death: no sun, no spring in bloom!
If the human spirit is isolated, it'll feel the same effect;
set all your prisoners free, extend your visual aspect!
Don't I miss the pink-footed goose quite and beautiful?
He knew I wouldn't harm him and swooping down
to pick up his breadcrumbs, he got close feeling grateful;
without warblers, there'll be no sounds at rising dawn!
Where's the pink-footed goose that I watched
from below with a curious glance, he didn't warble
or chase after a butterfly, his silence was miserable;
did he grieve his long-gone feathered friend?
Geese grieve too, it's not only humans who do;
take in consideration their sorrow: we are alike!
I keep coming to this lake where white doves coo;
they miss their friend: their cry is far from divine!
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