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.