Love Is Not Real

The parrot is in the cage

The child hanging to the coattails of a woman

The woman and the parrot are on a different page

She feels like a parrot’s patron.

Come morning and it is feeding time

The child has finished his meal

The parrot waits for its turn

Nobody can tell how does it feel.

Perhaps the parrot looks for freedom

To fly unfettered in the forest and over the trees

Never come back therefrom

See the sky and nectar-making bees.

It is beautiful outside it knows

But its freedom is limited to cage

Every day older it grows

It can bang its beak only in rage.

For the woman, it is a bliss

For the parrot misery of lifelong confinement

The parrot knows what it misses

Their feelings are not in alignment.

The child watches his mother feed the bird

Sometimes he wonders why the parrot is alone

Where are other members of its herd

And the bird wonders where good days are gone.