Curious thing,

fluttering wings

Shedding dust

like iron sheds rust

Under glass dome

Ding-****, ding-****

But this bell does not toll

The only sound is wings against glass

Tap-tap, tap-tap, crystal sound

Big blue wings, curious things,

Why are they so blue?

The pen swirls a net to try and catch

The blue that fills the glass room

The drawing is done

Pointy silver, topped with a sphere,

comes out to play

The wings flutter, flutter, flutter

Fall still

New glass, flat sheet

Like ice on the road

No longer a soundless bell

Inside of which is trapped

a beauty

Unable to escape

Never to be set free

Flattened under ice-sheet glass

Curious thing,

Museum thing,

No more fluttering wings.