Bird
She was swaying along
with the directions which lead,
Four chief directions, In the
middle was she.
From gliding towards the north
to facing the crimson sun in the east,
She experienced every direction's glee.
While resting her little wings under the shed
in south,
Or leaping for prey in north,
She has seen every corner of four
directions, we call east, west, north and south.
Fragile she is
Many flew by the wrong side of the river,
And she is a bird.
In the lap of whistling directions
she can find herself and soon
in her home !
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