The Waking Bird

Good morning, the waking bird
How was your night?
It has become every day
You knock my window plane;
I’m sorry for bothering you to keep me sane

You come and go with a note of waking
When am still snoring
The rising sun attests to your courage
Showing you in my cracked window plane
I gently croon ‘Two Little Black Birds’

I hear the flap of your feathers
When I chorus the poem
Come and take the helm

The first day you came I cringed in terror
Because you come with a look of horror
Your horny claws are good at horology
Design on my window plane as a travesty,
Of time

You come to know if I’m awake
How was your night?
It has become every day
You come near my window
To say good morning

I waited all night
To say good night.