The Blue Bird

High up in her gilded cage,

the little blue bird sings,

to window shoppers passing by,

Too hurried to hear her tinkling, trilling song.

With a hopeful heart beating in her chest,

she sees them all, the big and the small.

Children that peek and peer as fingers poke,

where she hangs atop the wall.

High up in her gilded cage,

the hinges creek, she's been here so long.

She watches them all,

Wistfully, she sings her trilling song.

Day after day she preens,

fluffs, puffs, and sings,

but the window shoppers never stop,

to hurried to hear her sad trilling song.