The Cage

The Cage

An empty cage swings in the wind.
Stray gusts slice hard
through bamboo slats
Nostalgia, her last vice
Thoughts of what has, 
and could have been. 
Faces young, though long passed.

Once it held a bird, 
this swaying bamboo cage,
and a young child's face shone,
with innocence and delight
as a bright bird fluttered
in cramped spaceless flight.

But the years have surely passed
and the bird is long gone
and some things never last,
and the young face no longer shone.

Gone now are the young,
leaving lonely echoes of the past,
the years stole away the days, 
and left an empty cage
lit by the amber suns dying rays.

She doesn't know that she's crying,
but for ten long years, She's been trying.
Tears course slowly down an age lined face
as she looks at the now still cage
and remembers a young child
looking through the eyes of innocent age.