Avant-Garde.

Little bird

I hear a sound, a sound so sweet and a perfect melody,

I search all the ways, up and down, right and left to find its form.

I feel something, a gentle wind, a gust of air, sweeping my hair out of my face.

I look up in its direction finding none other than a tiny little bean.

A bird, a small little bird, in perfect harmony sitting on the wire.

Curiously searching every corner, every crack for something new and something weak.

The baby sparrow marking it's reign.

I look at it amazed and consumed by it's beauty.

Waving it a goodbye as it goes out of my visual frame setting on a new adventure, a new game.

As I presume my work as the night comes near,

I hear a noise, a disturbance, a crash.

I see a little feather floating in the air, landing on my lap.

Tear slips out of my eye as i bid my little birdie the final goodbye.