To cRacKLe from Pop (between pigeons)

Dear Crackle, (Or I'll just call you Crack),
It's been a week since you were attacked.
When the kite swooped down, and stole you away -
Honestly, the scariest day,
And the saddest one too, that I've ever known,
One minute you're with me, the next I'm alone.
The Fates can be cruel, evil, unfair,
I spent the next three days in despair,
Spending my days behind the clay pot,
It would suffice to say - that kite scared me a lot.
I wouldn't move. No, I wouldn't budge.
Papa called and cooed and beckoned and nudged.
The others came back, the pigeon intruders,
If anything they were louder, and meaner and ruder.
Papa yelled at me too, 'think of your brother!' he said,
Which is all I did, thoughts of you filled my head ...
You were a feisty, fiery, speckled chick,
You pulled legs and pranks, and too many tricks.
You were so loud, while I was so soft,
I was on the ground, while you were aloft.
You were the energy, the mad, the fire ...
my opposite, yet you did inspire -
Me, now I fly too, catching the wisps of clouds,
I coo and call, I'm clear and loud.
From inside I'm still the shy, timid Pop,
But I've taken your spirit, and I can't be stopped.
It's been a week, and so much has changed,
Once you have read this, you'll find it so strange!
Yet, I know you help me, for we always helped each other,
I just hope that you're proud of me, brother.