The songbird sits in the windowsill.
While her bright red feathers become the blackest black.
She was left in the rain.
Its such a shame.
She never sings anymore.
Little songbird is far from home tonight.
Some creatures aren't meant to be caged.
But those who are caged, are caged for a reason.
To keep them from singing their song.
What I wouldn't give to set her free.
What I wouldn't give to hear her sing.
What I wouldn't give to say goodbye.
And let her know everything will be alright.
But that will come in time.
Such an envious pot of molasses.
Thick and heavy on the wings.
She won't be going south for the winter this time.
Stuck in that lonely, somber cage.
That cage that paints her already greyed days an even deeper grey.
And covers her eyes when it's already dark outside.
But she'll come to find on her own.
In whatever nest she'll call her home.
That her wings may be clipped.
And her feathers may never be the same.
But she'll sing again.
And she'll come home to me.
Where she belongs.
Wherever the song will take her.
She will sing.
Silence is only temporary until you have the power to open your lungs and let the world know what you have to say.
Goodbye, my songbird.
I await the day to see your red feathers one more time.
Until then, know I love you.
For these words mean nothing unless you know the truth behind them.