Delusions
The first flap of its wings
The gentle flutter; in its chest
Reverberated
Trust me, you said,
No one will know.
'But mother would be angry...'
Evaporated, through the phosphened skies
And adrenaline.
It's a mess I've made.
Help me clean it tomorrow?
The bright eyes, coaxing,
'Come on!' Surefire promises
Of happiness
Prisms removed, the colours fade
I see you behind the sorrow;
A ravishing look on the cat's face
Assuring another young dove
The mother is still away, finding food—
The writer is a student of class 9 at SFX Greenherald International School.
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