sareyva

I'm empty. My brass bars so intricately woven, so carefully constructed, go to waste without him. My door is closed now. He had been able to open it and close it at will. He was clever that way. I am a birdcage. I house birds. No. I housed birds. A bird. I housed a bird. Not anymore. His song cheered me up, even if I couldn't show it. I spent hours listening to that song. What else could I do, but listen? When he left, I was sad. I couldn't hear his song but for a distant echo. My door was left open. He didn't bother to close it. But when he came back, I was happy. He settled down on his perch within my bars. The perch just for him.