As I sit and stare,
Starring at the two birds on the tree,
Which unconsciously preen themselves,
Oblivious of the watchful eyes,
Alert eyes of the watcher,
Who are glued on their positions,
As they watch two birds on the tree,
Each bird takes its time,
A time to stretch and oil its feathers,
With its beak it cleans them,
Ready for the afternoon parade,
The parade will be in that square,
A square which is free from grabbing,
It is a meeting place,
Where all birds meet to sing,
Each to sing its own melody,
The two fly, flying away from that tree,
Pairing as they soar high,
Where still they remain free,
Because they had cleansed themselves,
Courageously they expose their kernels,
Of their personality to the public,
They were free because they knew themselves,
They knew a boil is healed when it is exposed to the sun.

Eric Njoroge

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