The Tree House and the Window

A guy and a girl, sharing space together,
On a tree perch, looking for shade,
On a bright sunny day, at noon,
And talking about building a house for them.

On the tree, a tree house was in mind,
Land got without haggling with realtors,
Or bribing the registration officials,
Or getting into complicated lawsuits.

Good coz they knew nothing about lawsuits,
The guy was a suitor in love,
And so was the girl, suitors in love,
And they never did worry about lawsuits.

In love and they wanted to have kids,
The house was for kids, in fact.
Till they grew up, and our love birds
Turned into empty nesters.

Nesters they were, figuratively and literally,
They were the winged children of nature.
A pair of sunbirds, with plans for a family,
Were building a home for themselves.

The home was ready, warm and welcoming,
Cushioned with down and dandelion bristles,
The bed was cosier and more inviting,
Than anything man had ever made.

The eggs were laid, red, round and shiny,
Lying close to each other, brothers in arms,
Mom and dad dotted on them,
Checking up on them every alternating minute.

A leaf moved and dad came chirping in,
To see if eggs were in place, or if they’d fallen,
The breeze swept by and mom rushed in,
To build ramparts around the nest.

And this continued as the days moved on,
The noises were getting louder and louder,
And here I was sitting and enjoying the music,
On the other side of the window,

It was my window to the world,
A world that had a few rustling leaves,
And a brown nest, shrivelled
On the outside and comfy on the inside.

The window stayed open, day and night,
To listen to the sweet song of birds,
Of parents taking care of kids,
For, that to me, was a vision of paradise.

I heard fresher, shriller chirps one day,
The shell gates had opened wide,
And stars saw the sun, with hooded eyes,
Rivalling each other in garnering attention.

Roses opened and shut, faster than I could blink,
With mom and dad feeding nectar to the flowers.
Chirping sounds filled the air, it came to life,
Wandering from red beak to red beak.

The beaks became bigger, and chirping, less shrill,
Food was more often found than brought,
My window was rusting already, for lack of wear,
And so was my hearing, the music was no longer there.

It was a bright sunny day, when they moved.
To build a nest of their own, for their own,
The tree outside my window stands alone,
And so do I, on the other side of the window.