grimace pressed to glass
looking at those
that she never can possess
she can never board or dock in havens
save the fact
she spends time with ravens
wishing that
they were crow’s feet
bound like history books
encapsulated in their feathers
she could never gather
lessons learned like they took
they took pride in looking at her
mocking bird as she was known
she felt for the birds
unlike them she couldn’t go
ties are invisible like family trees
that grow without water or light
nailed to the ground she remains free
afraid to take flight for fear of stage and height
mocking bird in the window sill
you are framed yet free still
why wait for the curtain
the play goes on for certain
the die is cast the shape of a weathercock
but she feels bound to roots and leaf of clover
when wind will change tides for better luck
she hopes it will blow over
no longer kept but cast to act
then she can sincerely clap
from a spire whereon she is bright
end scene at night
