there would be no cages
no traps, no snares
no pitfalls or spider's webs
to ambush and imprison
the songbirds
behind dead, iron bars
oh, we've adorned the rods with
gaudy bells and trinkets galore
but nothing can replace
the feeling of a gentle wind
and the day's light
gleaming through the leaves
there's a reason, we insist,
as we tigthen the knot
tying the anchor
to their spindly legs
to make them stay
to make them sing
we have stifled their voices
with the noose of the rope
we have wrapped around
their pretty little necks
and they no longer have
the breath
or the will
to sing
and they wilt.
no more cages.
no more traps, no more snares.
no more pitfalls or spider's webs
to ambush or imprison
the songbirds
anymore.
YOU ARE READING
The Garden
PoetryA collection of words that were planted and hopefully will not wilt.
