On the Rickety branch
I sat in despair,
The Winds of bitter Winter,
Shrouded the Claustrophobic air.
My wings felt clipped
With overlaying snow,
The frozen River mocked me,
Slowly meandering on its toe.
Then I heard the piercing Tone
Of your Song of Spring
The beating broken Heart
Kindled inside me, and started Hoping.
It felt like flying over
Poppy fields, brightly so
Coloured in blazing Red,
Kissed by a setting Sun’s glow.
The Rickety branch,
Sprouted leaves of New Green.
The River now danced with a
Graceful golden sheen.
We flew to the meadow,
And layed on the soft Grass,
Staring at the fluffy white Clouds
As they gently pass.
Your Arms around me
Were like tempered Steel,
Resonating with promises
I believe you will fulfill.
I danced and twirled and
Kissed your neck gently,
And placed Iron Bars around you
To build your Cage so beautifully.
I brought wreaths of Lavender,
Of Daisies and Roses and Lilacs exotic,
Embellishing our Cage,
Removing weeds that seemed toxic.
The Seasons of Monsoon,
Autumn, Winter, Summer went by…
Everlasting Spring in our cage
Never bid them goodbye.
I held onto you enfolded in my arms
As you embraced my soul
You looked out into the Darkness
Your eyes longing for Diamonds in the Coal.
As days went by, was Bliss all there
Perhaps I was the one disillusioned,
Everlasting Spring in my Heart
To your Soul no more appealed.
The Wreaths of Lavender, Daisies, Roses and Lilacs started withering away
I clutched at them desperately watered them with my Tears
But instead of flowers came the Weeds of deception
Toxic Poison Ivy clutched at my throat, as I gave into my fears.
My wings all dusty
I looked at your tattered Being
And eyes of Hemlock Beauty.
I broke my heart and
Took out the Golden Key
Placed it on your Hands
Ever so gently
You opened all the Doors and all of them Windows
The Sun so Bright, with Rays of Aurum flew in
And the Winds so tepid, nimbly walked inside
You left the broken Cage, with a spreading grin.
I plucked all my Feathers
One by one
Counting Time in Seconds
Hoping you would return
Rivulets of blood
Ran down my back
Cometh Days of Cold
Solitary Winter Black.
On the Rickety branch sat a little Bird
Chirping it’s melancholic heart out
Seasons went by, Summer, Spring and Autumn…
Beloved is the Winter, Cold without doubt.
–by Soumya Bunk