The stranger.

The stranger.

The bird was a stranger to me.
It used to sit on my window.
Then it made twittering sounds
and flew to the infinite.

It used to come almost at fixed time everyday.
I observed it intently.
It greeted me flirtiously
and hopped few steps.

It moved its short neck.
Twitched its tail with twittering.
Polished its varnished feathers
with its beak and flew away.

Then I went somewhere else for few days.
When I returned,
I found a colourful feather on the window sill.
It was its last token of love.