To the gentle breeze I complained,
With my hair which softly played,
“We were meant to walk together,
Then why these distances?
Why can’t she see me, or me her?”
A baby bird jumped off the ledge,
Fluttered wings in vain, almost fell, nearly dead,
At last it flew, to me the wind said,
“Today he was left hungry, all alone,
To meet his desires, his destiny, his
wings he spread.
Life is like me, its a matter of times,
Through me that bird fell, on me that