Birdie

In the still morning, the birds will sing
About their lives, in the form of song.
And these songs carry the weight of their
Burdens as they flutter about, along.

But what burden has a bird, when it
Really comes down to the line?
They have food, and air, and water,
And, I think, they're doing fine.

I suppose being a bird is a good thing:
If you're a bird, you're free,
And every single open passageway becomes
A window of opportunity.

When a bird flies through a window
And into the wide, wide world,
She can catch a ride on the wind
With her wings unfurled.

And my little birdie, I don't keep
Inside a gilded cage,or weight to the ground
For I want her to fly as high as she can
Without any sort of bound.