His squeal, like a pig in heat
praising God for he believed
He sat, 2 years old
And he looked at the lord
Drew an angels breath
Swatted a toy
A bird that could not fly
meant for another mans eye
Gramp's died
Colorado bound plane
Isle seat
In the pocket in front
Was a small toy ostrich
Pushed it deep into my pocket
I couldn't say why
When I got home
A sickness ensued
Head pounding
Filled up the sink
With pink cottage cheese chunks
And I withered in pain
He died, it came
Between the window pane
It was white like a ghost
Didn't appear on french toast
It was like laser etching
About 3 inches tall
The body the same
Every single feather
the plumage was an replica the bird found on the plane
major difference was the tail
it was was composed of many fine intermingling lines
Best seen by brightest daylight
a work no artist and no man could claim
I thought it was condensation
that this bird symbol would just fade away
But it remained
The next day was Good Friday
And I gave the unseen