I was to carry the key but my anxiety
Had gnashed my digits down to stumps.
While the little bird grew back her plume.
She finds herself beyond my fragile cage,
The world is avant-garde, bright with bloom.
But she looks back sorrowfully on me.
“I’m sorry. It’s time for me to go now.”
And all I can do is nod quietly.
Swallow the bolder knit in my throat
From the years we have built.
Light as air, she steps into sunlight
And I dissolve into darkness.
So long as she fashions a smile
I will fabricate one all the while.