There was a bird,
A delicate and beautiful
Little bird; but
Injured and hurt
Seeking shelter, from the vultures
Looking for protection
Flying here and there
Had wings gone weak
It saw a man
Sitting under a tree
A bored man,
Waiting for entertainment.
To the bird
He appeared to be kind
From a safer distance
He was calling out
For the bird;
It not seeing,
What his intentions were
Flew closer and sat on a bough
The man pretended
To be a healer
He promised
To fix the wounded wings
Pretending to be caring,
He made it sing to him
He made it dance to his tune
It sang to him, even though
It had to save itself
From the vultures
He had no compassion to offer it
He had no shelter to offer it
Just empty words
The bird knew not,
Kept sitting on the bough
Listening to him
Kept bleeding, yet
Kept singing and dancing
to his tune, selflessly
It got attached
To that man,
To that man,
Believing to be loved.
Those empty words,
It took for real.
While the man sat there
with eyes closed, enjoying the song
The bird kept draining itself out
It sang to him, day and night
It stayed, it bled, it sang to him
Growing weaker and weaker
It's voice got feeble and dull
It had to cope with the broken wings
It had to look out for the vultures
The man, realizing and sensing
the bird's voice no more
To be pleasing to his senses
Discarding it, for better entertainment
the selfish man took off !
© Sobia Nosheen (20th January 2013)
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