It is Dangerous Out There

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Confined to one room, longing to be free. What happened when he was?

Submitted: January 19, 2016

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Submitted: January 19, 2016



He peered beyond the weathered window

To that sunny field beyond the trees.

If only he could escape that room

To explore that field in an April breeze.

When he was young, he tried and tried

To escape the bonds that held him there;

The more he tried, the more he failed,

And his wild spirit began to tare.


His manuscript of determined hope

Began to fade and the binding frayed,

Then he accepted fate and his lot in life,

And without a choice he reluctantly stayed.


As the years passed by,

Peppered with sorrow,

Distractions seemed short

And left just to barrow.

He would dwell on the visions

Past his well weathered window

And the sounds outside

Became a beckoning crescendo. 


Then one morning in an ironic twist

He saw his chance and flew from his cage,

Straight past the window, his portal to freedom,

Straight past the window in a fluttering rage.

He flew to the trees at the edge of the field,

Confused by the vastness, but without a care.

He ignored the pleas from his elderly friend

"Come back, come back, it's dangerous out there!"


His calls began fading

As he flew from the trees

Flying here and there

In the warm April's breeze.

And as the Sun rose

Into the noonday's sky

She sat in her room,

Left lonely, to cry.


Such an empty room

Without Noel.

He wasn't there

To ring his bell,

To climb his ladder,

Or sit on her knee,

Or call out her name

As clear as could be.




Well, her Daughter left the house

To search for the wayward bird,

But returned with another,

(There was nary a word),

A bird that was born 

Inside, not out,

And raised contented,

With people about.


That bird quickly captured

The old woman's heart

And mended those patches

That Noel tore apart.

So she thought far less

Of Noel being gone

Sad as if was,

Life carries on.


Then one morning,

On her window sill,

Noel landed

Looking raged and ill.

Meekly, he pecked

On the old window pain

His choice to return

Meant he was home to remain.


Then the future grew brighter,

Each morning to night

As the antics of the birds

Brought laughs and delight.

And the birds felt secure

In the woman's good care

And not one felt the need

To go anywhere.









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