Little Bird


Love comes softly upon gossamer wings,
Poised on vicarious heart strings.
To bestow a gift to the heart,
Yearning to be an intricate part.

The song from this little bird,
Sings so tender with sweet word.
Perched in the heart's gilded cage,
Braving a rejection from heckler's engage.

So trusting, the door slams secured,
Selfishness whispers of insecurities procured
Locking the little bird and hiding it away,
Like a prized possession on display.

So dependent, like a crutch,
Professing you’ve been hurt too much.
An unhappy, little bird refuses to sing,
From freedom's deficient sting.

Then dueling personalities clash,
A trembling bird escapes a tight grasp.
Closing down that vulnerable part,
That gentle pulsate within the heart.

Fleeing from an unwelcome stage,
A melody silenced in an empty cage.
Without love the music will abstain,
The part that craves wallows in pain.

Love is a very essential part.
The fluttering wings within a heart.
Performed with her freedom waged,
Sung by the little bird uncaged.