The Parched Pleas

Hunger grips the air in the drizzling morn,

As raindrops fall, a symphony of tears,

Drenched feathers cling, in search of hope reborn,

Wet winged birds, trembling in their fears.


Their song unheard, their eyes beseeching skies,

For crumbs of solace in this watery plight,

Yet nature’s canvas paints no sweet supplies,

And hunger’s pain intensifies, despite.


With delicate grace, they hop and they peck,

Each morsel sought, a lifeline to sustain,

Their resilience, a testament to check,

In drenched despair, their strength will not wane.


Oh, poignant sight, these hungry souls endure,

In drizzling morn, their plea for food, pure.

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