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Poetry
Frank McNie's Poems


The Dead Bird



Poor little flea riddled mite,
I wonder did you die of fright.
Did some cat with ancient leanings?
Mistake you for his dinner.
You lived your life at break neck pace,
A tri-athlete in life's living race.
You had to be a winner.

Construction frenzy built your wee abode,
To the highest standard of the Bird Building Code.
Not a moments leisure.
Without thought to stop and rest,
Your family filled that little nest
No time for any pleasure.

I felt compelled to help in the food procession,
To feed them now was your obsession.
Your Industry was daunting.
You then taught them how to fly,
To play their games up in the sky.
Never to go wanting. 

Your job was done you passed the test,
Perhaps some time to sit and rest.
Then some cat with ancient leanings,
Mistook you for his dinner.


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