Poetry Type: Quatrain
My soft feet could romance the wet earth
As I walk along the forest-Two strong
Hands could handle any deadly dearth,
Which always stays as security lifelong.
Delicious food comes up to mouth by a lift
Ten fingers fights to feed the hungry mouth
Jobless beaks are sacked after thorough sift
An end to painful crouch for each bout.
No more whistling,a sweet song from my band
In dawn could be taken as signal for sun to arouse
Tired of crossing oceans to reach alien lands
And a complete freedom from being a grouse.
Clothing with colorful casual wears
Farewell to weightless feather dresses
Fear fades away as no one touch my heirs
Searing sun,pelting rain brings me no stress.
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