The feathers have grown
The bird is magnificient
The baby cries through the wall
The beak extends over years
The plummage is majestic
The grace of the bird
The pain in the infant
Soon flight will be expected
Night is dry morning humid
Eyes imitate
The bird spreads it's wings
Falling off the rail
Taking the upwind into the sky
Golden feathers
Gone into the sunrise
Gone from our observation
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