My heart is a birdcage

Hanging from a tree branch and

Moving with the wind.

You can look inside-but don't touch!
It might fall

and

break.

Sometimes my heart is the bird inside

the cage.

Singing, sighing, flying, crying.

Looking for a way out.

If only I could

bend

the

bars!

The feathers litter the ground.

All colors, pink, brown,

and deep dark blue.

Holding my secrets

and then dropping them.

The wind carries them away.

Wave goodbye to them!

The flowers are shades of pink and white

holding the birdcage in their tender embrace.

Though they are small

they protect it.

Unyielding.

A bird flew by the cage today

And I could not tell

if I was the bird or the cage

Or if I was the bird in the cage.

What was I?

What am I?

Who am I?

Am I?

I?