songbird

First you put me on a pedestal,
So wide, so smooth, so clean,
With nothing but horizons,
Beyond the surface’s gleam.
But slowly and so surely,
Came stems of bronze and gold,
intertwining in the heavens,
An eternal bond to hold.
Now I find myself upon this pedestal,
Still wide, still smooth, still clean,
But barred from those horizons,
That once were in my reach.