The Magpie and The Hummingbird
There aren't many of us left, are there?
Hummingbirds I mean
We are few and far between
But chosen nonetheless
To fly with such grace
Prismaticly brilliant feathers of lace
The magpie loves us
They are drawn to our twinkle...
The light to their dark
They can't differentiate between
Want and need
Controlled by jealousy and greed
We are, gracefully silent and bold
While they are the ravenous
Is all that glitters gold?
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