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.