Feathers and Thumbs

I had a canary once Every morning it would sing It was the most precious thing I cherished it for months Little and sweet, with feathers bright gold And as valuable as the stars It, like me, was kept prisoner behind bars Still, chirped in hope, it sang so bold But, indoors she would never again see the light of day Nor would she find love and bear young She knew this, and was emotionally wrung Locked up, alone, is how she would stay The bird lost hope and could take no more She fell ill without purpose and liberty So she silenced her self and song for eternity I loved that little bird with all I had… what am I waiting for?