The door is closed
The bird is there
His wings are broken
The window is opened
But how can he fly away?
The sunlight comes in
With soft slow touches
It carresses his broken wings
Poor bird will just stay in
Without moving ,
Without screaming,
A tear comes down
Without crying,
Without sobbing,
The bird is dying
silently and slowly
The bird is lonely
His story ends
Sadly…
Hiba
