Songbird

 

Songbird

Sitting, singing on a limb, her song reached in and captured him,

Upon the wind as she did fly, he tossed a crumb and she did spy,

Swooped to eat, he scooped her up, held her tight beneath his coat.

She heard his heart pound with her own. Too fast he stole her from her home,

Took her to his cottage dazed, locked her in a golden cage.

"Sing my sweet bird." "Sing your song." "It pleasures me, so warble on."

She sang of limb, she sang of sky, she sang of wind, desire to fly

Up where birds belong, song free, until sweet notes turned sour pleas.

"I miss my limb." "I miss my sky." "I need the wind." "I need to fly."

She tried to sing but pain sounds sore. Soon her sweet song was sweet no more.

He tired of it and no longer heard the pitiful plea of the lonely bird.

Though she, so sad, did cry and plead, he never heard the want or need,

Only the sour notes that pained his ears. He tuned them out, forgot her there.

And as her heart pumped one last plea of limb, sky, wind, of flight so free,

She simply could no longer bear to live where no one heard or cared.

And so soul ceased, her spirit flew back to the only home she knew.

Now sometimes when no one is there, a faint, sweet song floats on the air,

But not for cruel man's ears to hear. There's silence when all men draw near.

But she is there on limb in spirit for those with heart intent to hear it.

For man may cage a bird, you see, but her song forever will be free.

~P.S. Colley~

c. 1987