The parrot is walking
through the park
the grass new under
his feet, he has bored of
the air above
he checks his reflection
in a puddle, and frowns
at the mirrored sky
he is beginning to like the feel
of walking, and begins a little
strut, oh yea - wings relaxed
and folded
he thinks, 'I am beautiful'
the sun warms his back
A few people are coming his
way, and he's hurries
towards them, moving his tongue
about his mouth,
there is something on his mind
and as the people try to
go around him, his beak opens and
and words come out.