Little Miss Flappy Bird

Little Miss Flappy Bird,
where is your calm?
Is it your little stomach,
Or your itchy palms.

What makes you jump,
and jump over again?
What makes you turn,
and turn over again?

Little Miss Flappy Bird,
Where do you come from?
Is it some place far, or close some place,
that is known to all as the Fidgety Town?

Here this Sunday morning,
you sit on the highest cable.
You sit for a moment still,
and then jump over again.

You watch me with your one side eye,
and then turn around your place.
You watch me with your other side eye,
and then turn over again.

Is it me that you find amusing,
or is it in your nature?
Or is it my smile charming,
that you descend from your cable stature?

What in your chirping voice you tell,
what from the little beak mask?
Oh you want me to come with you,
so sweet of you to ask.

As much as I admire your joyous life,
your jumping off the twigs and leaves;
my life is chained in thorns,
and am made to live it like this.

On previous instances too,
I've wanted to fly like you.
But as glorious as it can be being you,
I still have those thorns tied to my wings too.

There was a time,
when I used to resemble you;
my wings were free,
and my canvas was the sky blue.

But that was the time that is was,
now the story is then,
Now only you could fly high,
and I'll have to sit here in my den.

So as much as I appreciate your offer,
I'll prefer to sit here and glare,
You carry on with your endeavors in the sky,
and do keep this habit of share.

Now go, fly to your town far,
Or where it is you come from,
And do visit again this friend,
that will remember you as a happy tramp.