A pair of two birdies, perched up on a tree

with their black birdy eyes glued tight onto me.

Just play along now, finish up what you need. 

But never forget, the pair of two birdies watching.

Please mind your temper, try not to see red. 

Lower your voice, child, and lower your head. 

I know the world’s spinning, but close your eyes, count to ten.

You must paint on a smile and keep everything in.

The birdies test my patience, but rather than cry

I just lay in the grass and allow them to fly.

You must ignore their chirping, their shrieks, and their songs, 

for these two little birdies can’t quite tell right from wrong.

Such a labor of love, to raise birdies like them,

preening their wings and their hearts to better fit in,

flying by example so the birdies can learn

exactly how to handle the world at their turn.

The pair of two birdies have grown plenty since then.

Their wings almost 40, their minds forever at 10.

I have grown too, from once bubbling behind a mask,

to genuinely, gently answering whatever the birds ask.

As I now look how far, birdies and I have come, 

again my eyes dampen, but this time overcome

with love and with pride over every endeavor

made to let the pair of two birdies…

stay pure and sweet little birdies forever.