It has millions to narrate
From pleasure in leisure
To the sorrows in real.
It has the chances to see her
With and without
Though it may not be provoked
As a mere pervert!
It might be wondered to discover
The crests and troughs of her body
The tears from her eyes
Even settles it's thirst!
How can she bear
Burdens, the ruthless humans?
The sole possessor of those
Eyes might think!
That bird in migration.
