It was a dawn, full of dew,
The sun was up, yet, there wasn’t any hue.
The feathered flocks chirped and chattered,
Sadly, many looked battered.
Fast and furious, the tornado rushed.
Blew all, that came in its grasp.
Shattered all, drowned every duct,
‘twas the night last, when most got rapt.
The mother quail was hit by the gale,
The weary male thus seemed quite pale.
Five little chicks went with the sail,
All mourned, for what befell.
The father quail, crowed in pain
Searched for his chicks, but all in vain.
He mourned by his floppy mate,
With all his might, he tried to vet.
Dazed and numbed, he went astray.
Clutching his departed mate,
He flew towards the gate.
Hoping, Heaven to be her fate.
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