Little Bird

Little Bird

Little Bird so light and gentle, God's creation. What a painting it turned out to be, feathers of a chukaroo. Makes me think of trees standing tall, like him—gosh, bet he was 6ft 2; my head was just above his belly. I am so small. Like apples falling from a tree, look at him, look at me! So little bird, I hear your voice as you sing to me: wrong choice.

I like drawing so much; once outside, pencil moves, my end product added to the best gallery—mine. Imagine if birds were big and we were the little ones—haha, bird toys. Walking past the toy shop, I got my dad the perfect gift, a model car. My car needs a service soon; it’s poorly. The sound of the engine is like a broken sewing machine.

I made all my own dresses with my sewing machine; what a great invention! So this bird I created looks the part—what a talent. Some people can turn their hand to anything. Not that it bothers me, I am me.