Like Caged Birds
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In my thoughts poetic words are swirling, twirling,
tumbling and whirling.
Like caged birds trapped and reckless to be set free.
I must find paper and pen and release the fluttering.
My muse is screaming in my head or is that me?
I start to write and sad poems come creeping.
Words bleeding, oh do all poets struggle or just me?
And as I pen my verses I find myself weeping
The words done, exhausted I sigh because for now,
muse has set me free?
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July 6, 2015
Rhyme/Like Caged Birds
Copyright Protected, ID 687040
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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