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She calls me softly sometimes
Like a dove on a summer day.
On the edge of memory she sits
And beckons me to play.
To soothe her gypsy soul,
With a song or two and then
Open the door to the gilded cage
And let her see beyond the bend.
At times she flies towards heaven--
But gets caught in a bitter wind
And then she flutters near the earth
Thinking it better to pretend,
That she and I are separate--
Two birds, two lives, two songs
And yet I know the bitter truth
She's not where she belongs.
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I felt a lot of emotions when I read this. An exceptional job of expressing some very deep personal thoughts. Your choice of words were vivid. I really got the feel for it when I read
"At times she flies towards heaven--
But gets caught in a bitter wind
And then she flutters near the earth"
With so few words you paint such strong images. Even the repeating of words fits here. Usually a minor pet peeve of mine, I thought that the fact that the wind that pushes her down from heaven and the final truth are both 'bitter' adds to the emotions behind the tale.
Always tough when we can't be or do what we are meant to do.
