WM (March 5,1962 / Kinston, Jamaica, West Indies)

Strange Little Bird

Strange Little Bird
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, January 15,2017


Strange little bird never utters a word
So melancholy never bothering anybody
Broken wings and broken things joy seldom brings
Strange little bird, sometimes being awkward

Struts and strides, but the secrets it hides
Smiling and profiling for a while
Living a life that is mess that is full of stress
Compromised yet never satisfied this bird wipes a dried eye

Spared not the expense for the black bird sits on a broken fence
Howling the cold the Birds do not complain
Thoughts of the bird heard I cannot explain
This is his domain that the bird maintains

Broken windows and out the blue bird flew
So many things the bird never knew
So much for a bird to go through
For pursuits true, from his point of view, were not new

Fly little bird, fly again
Summer breeze will blow you know
For only God knows where or when
So you must spread your wings and fly away

Fly little bird, fly
Fly where the eagle soar
No one will hold you back anymore
The world is your for you to explore

Fly little bird, fly
Fly so high that you can even touch the very sky
You can find your way home again
There is no need for you to roam now and then
For true the wind will carry you
And God still loves you too
Spread broken wings for you angels will still sing

Strange little bird trapped in the snow
Where it goes, no one knows
The tribulations it undergoes
Seldom care we for those
Left exposed for its life has been foreclosed

Footprints track off to nowhere
Some stop and stare pretending they care
Winds blowing and the icy rains came
No one calls out its name
For only you still feel the pain
Out of sight and lost my mind
Wined and dined yet left behind
For its the fate of all mankind

Little bird roast in the summer's heat
On the street, it finds nothing to eat
Life feels so incomplete
What sours the soul once tasted sweet

Blazing Sun it starts to sweat
Things I find I simply can't forget
All those things that I regret
They still make me get upset
For I'm not nearly done yet
It makes perfect sense
To keep a fool in suspense
So I aim high to hit the ball beyond the highest fence

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