8

I buried a bone in my yard. It once was a part of my life. It once was a part of my life because it was a part of my colorful little maya which died because of distress. I let it fly, but it didn't. I looked up for smart ways of feeding it rice powder, like putting feeds in its silver cage beside a little water dispenser; or setting up its little beak in a way it could easily eat its food, but it refused to.

Perhaps this little graveyard will last 'til someone takes a chance to pick a little shovel and gets rid of a lump of soil which hides it, while he looks for some places to plant santan seeds or places a lonesome piece of a biological science project which involves growing a single plant in yard; or perhaps it would rot, or would strew over to pieces if he digs it.

I am unsure if the bird wanted to live because it died.What I am certain is that it didn't want to fly.

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