Fluttering, Fluttering, Fluttering,
Are the wings of the caged-bird,
That never sings.
The rhythmic thumping,
Of a restrained heartbeat,
Reminding the body, that it still lives.
Acknowledgment of the damages done.
Worn, broken and torn,
From past storms of flight.
It was now, & at this very moment,
The veiled sight & fears,
Ceased to exist.
Strong, Black, Beady-eyed Bird!
Marking the firmness,
Of things seen, surroundings surveyed.
Naked, featherless body,
Hardened beak & pointedly poised feet,
There it is! That minuscule tingle of movement.
Ignoring of sustenance,
As a planned escape,
Was now INEVITABLE!
Sweat released, creating supple smoothness,
For slippage through the bars,
This was no mere coincidence.
Through an opened window,
Yet, there were no other options,
How to fly.
Contemplating the distance,
Upon the fall,
That was so obvious & apparent,
The bird that was caged,
Glimpsed the safety, of its former stage…
© Maxwanette A Poetess, All Rights Reserved.