A bird lands
On a friendly perch
To recover from flying
Over endless miles,
And spreads its wings once more
To blithely wander on–
But the perch turns out to be
Inside a metal cage
With a one-way door.
Incarcerated.
.
A new little vine
With branches too weak
Climbs up a strong tree
With the dream to breathe free,
But realizes too late
That the tree was lattice-weave
And tricked the vine
So it tangled itself up.
Trapped.
.
The clouds grow heavy,
Drop low in the sky,
Relax into a gentle shower.
Its drops fall free
And laugh as they land,
Eager to rejoin in a happy stream–
Yet some do find
That they landed in a tub
Which offers no escape
To rejoin their kindred.
Stagnant.
.
Even so did you draw me in
With promise of rest after long work,
Release from heavy weights,
Strength to carry on–
You enticed me with your stories,
Your colors and tunes,
Your characters and clever plots,
Till my heart was wrenched
And my eyes wept
And the time outside flew by me.
Fruitless.
.
Bind me no more in your fantasy world
Of Time Lords and blue boxes,
Princesses and lanterns,
Iron suits and winter soldiers,
Archers and sheriffs,
Wands and hallows.
No, let me be
As the wild bird should,
As the creeping vine aught,
As the falling rain would.
Free.