He placed her in a gilded cage

Then ruled the roost, and clipped her wings

Thought himself her perfect sage

And demanded songs a bluebird sings

But she could not sing of gratitude

For the confines of her lavish jail

Her songs were not of pleasures found

Embedded in that gilded rail

She craved the joy of skill and pride

Space to challenge, thwart and fly

A life where she was free to glide

Unencumbered in the sky

She sang of dreams within her heart

To spread her wings and cruise the breeze

She dreamed of soaring way up high

And swooping low amongst the trees

No choice to make, no sun, no cloud

As Iron-clad she whiled her days

Her prison walls, a stifling shroud

What he called love, true love betrays

And trapped inside her cage, confined

Her days were gloomy. Staid, intense

No gentle rain, no whispering wind

No verve to serve as recompense

Her songs became of sad defeat

Not gleaned from spring’s elating flight

They weren’t conceived of summer’s heat

Nor autumn gusts, or winter’s bite

He failed to see her mute morale

Misunderstood her weary mood

Dismissed her songs as treachery

And turned it all into a feud

He pounded wrath on gilded cage

Berated her for worthless wings

Then flew the roost and turned the page

Bored with the songs a caged bird sings