This is a quick thing I wrote from the writing prompt; Write about the death of a bird from the perspective of the bird cage.
It is still now, my beating heart. The sun warmed everything but my whole life. It coloured the sky and the grass, it brought life to the curtains and the carpet, and made water glisten. It’s embrace brought laughter to children, it made people talk and smile, changed their night to day and enlivened everything, except you my now un-beating heart. You weren’t warmed by it, your eyes did not sparkle and your voice did not sing. Its warmth did not energize you. You are unmoved by the loveliness of the daybreak and so it will be, it will not change. You will never more caress and nuzzle me, you won’t sing to me and give life to the emptiness which defines me. You, whose existence within gave me meaning and without who I can be nothing. You won’t lighten my life with your chatter or your soft and lovely plumes which, when brushed against me, made music.
You are cold and still forever now, my once bright and beating heart.
© 2016, IanRob. All rights reserved.
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