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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #2135037
My pet (no one said the pet has to exist)
I saw a flying bird, catch fire;
its red ashes came flying down.
I ran to see its body fall,
but-what- I saw was new to town.

a tiny pile of bones, and flesh very pink,
a cute maroon beak and claws so clean,
two glimmering and shining small button eyes
but no talons or feathers for it to preen.

I brought it home and named it nix,
tried to feed it ,but it wouldn't stay fixed,
it kept running around with its tiny little feet,
and roaming around the house it loudly squeaked.

it grew up fast to have a fiery plumage
big and strong and very wise for its age,
so handsome and cute , a proud creature,
with a soothing voice and striking features.

it spent a long and happy life with me
sharing sorrows, anger and times of glee,
and when the time came to say goodbye,
it taught me to burn and again be free.
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