A Love Story

The little wren chirruped her freedom song,

Of earth’s petrichor, of the rapturous blues.

She awed delightfully at the night’s mangata;

Been long oblivious to the creepy dern.

O would that life be a sparkling sweven!

Yet crude, rude, hued; so mean it is.

And one day flaring her wings, rubbing away the phosphenes,

In merriment; But alas! Trapped and ensnared.

The black bars bared repercussions,

Barren floors stank sordor.

Help! Save me! Let me be free!

Wept, crept she lulled -dismayed.

Airy airs mocked her pittance,

Chums soon left for their wanderlust trails,

Vim to Vad; she looked with distaste,

Spewed and pleaded the cage to no avail.

All this while the cage kept mum,

A black solivagant etched all in white.

Wandering the serendipity, he pitied her surmise

But vowed to protect the guileless with might.

His blank opias, her ruthless gazes,

Her ardor to fly, his cupid had him slain.

Dented and bent he cushioned her life,

Retribution swelled; still passions alight.

“Tell me about your lonely days, hardy,”

Curiosity had taken over the surrendered soul.

And then they bared and shared in orphic twilights,

The lorn man meeting the lady of his life!

Blossoms sprung, autumns went by,

Together they plunged in the delicacies of nature

O that life was not a sparkling sweven!

Crude, rude, hued; so mean it was.

Voiceless melodies sung of promises

Unheard, they forayed into an open door.

The longing wings fluttered to nefarious delights,

The black turned blacker with colors all gone.

A hollow smile over the feinted sleep

His beloved’s wails were not a lover’s cry

She was meant to fly, he knew.

It was a telltale, so couldn't be hewn.

She had the skies, the moon, the rise

Why did she long for the mourn – surprised!

Aye! We both alone were pals of need

Or did love really seed and breed?

One twilight the blossoms twittered in awe,

The cage and the wren united somehow.

Ages went by, it became an adage,

And the cage never again locked its gates.