I close the window.
There is a cold chill in the air,
The trees are bare,
And the birds flying away to the south
Leaving away this strange country
Once it was called their home
It was the place were they gave birth,
Grew and soared for the first time
Got shot, yet survived
And lost a fellow friend
Now they are migrating again
Leaving everything behind
Maybe they won't remember
But I will, for, once I was a bird
The only difference is they always return
But I never did.