My little caged bird sings so sweetly for me.
He whistles while I sharpen my knives.
I keep him inside, sometimes his cage hangs in the sun.
The sun moves across the room, it is brightest at 3:05.

It falls across his cage.
He doesn't like the sun.
He prefers the shade.

I cover him at night, he doesn't need to see out into the dark anyway.
Bad things out there.

I found him in the forest, poked him with a stick.
I brought him home and locked him up.
I had the cage!
He likes it better here with me.  I know.
Sing for me! Sing! Sing!

Of places I'll never go.
Of those faces I'll never see.
So sweetly.
Ahhhhh.

I'll never let him go.


Thanks T.S. for the parakeet story