Something For Everyone Poem by Morgan Michaels

Marisol is broken-hearted.
Her pet bird is gone.
The bird she had from day one
that rode on her shoulder
chattered in her ear.
and had a remarkable vocabulary.

Four times a year and more
she cropped its wings
so it couldn't fly;
as the severed feathers drifted to the floor
the bird said not a word
thinking probably 'I will have my day'.

Last week, on the coldest so far
it flew through the open pane
to certain doom below,
on clipped wings, no less
Don't ask me why the window was open.
She calls at the window, even now-

The poor girl, she let her guard down.
The bird lit out, in spite of her tactics;
The poor bird, lured by the prospect
of liberty, but too giddy to see
doom in the cold street.
Any wiser, now, you two?