When I turned five by age, my father gifted a bird in cage
All exalted by beauty of bird, the real grief was never heard
I tried to talk, to feed, to play, all night and day
In cage she would lie as if it was better to die
Saw a herd in the sky, realized she too wanted to fly
Ran all down to the floor, just to open her door
The hope turned into freedom, and wings set for the mile
She perched on my shoulder, her chirpings met with my smile
The moment felt so divine, was it her freedom or mine
Do we need to part, for our love to grow?
Should I hold her hand or let her go?