I have a little birdie friend, he is small, and black, with a face the colour of summer skies.
I watch from my desk as he taps on my window, flirting with his reflection. He momentarily flits about my mandarin tree, before taking off for wherever he so chooses.
He is a pretty little birdie, of a breed I am unsure. I wish to take his picture, but his visits are short and spontaneous.
I like that my birdie friend always keeps me guessing; our relationship shall never be a monotonous one. He comes and goes as he so decides - days are brightened by his sporadic visits.
One day I know he won't return, and a sad day that will be - but remember him I always will, my small, black and blue birdie.
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