No idea if my prose is pleasing to the ear. Apart from being half deaf I am also very biased 😂.
However, the pleasure for me is in the writing and the imagination. Still, little things please little minds!
Perhaps this was inspired by my hobby as a birdwatcher – I don’t like to see them in cages.
Heaven Is Relative
Aro was not a lucky soul
but never unhappy.
Sometimes he would sing, all day.
After all,
life in the flat had not been so bad,
but now everything was in turmoil…
Furniture slowly disappeared,
contents packed into boxes
and pictures taken off the walls.
Then came the long journey,
cold and dark,
in the hold of a ship.
He was fed every day
but his owner never showed up.
It was weeks later –
a long, long time for a parrot,
that he first saw the light of day
once again,
and then only for a while.
He was put into a dark truck.
His cage swung wildly
as the vehicle swayed and jolted
over the badly laid roads.
But he felt a little more at ease
for the truck was not quite as dark
as the ship.
And, around him,
was some of the furniture
from the flat.
Soon the truck came to a halt.
It was dark, but warm.
Aro’s cage was lifted out
and taken to another dark place.
It was hung from a post
where Aro slept until just before dawn…
He could not believe his ears,
nor his sense of smell.
In the air was the sweet scent of Jasmine –
a rhapsody, in comparison,
to the cigar smoke in the flat at home.
But it was not just the scent,
there was something even sweeter in the air.
A special treat,
that he had never experienced before.
It was a sound, a song,
not unlike his own
but far more beautiful
than anything ever heard before.
And, if that was not enough,
the dawn broke
and he could at last see where he was.
His cage hung from the lean-to
of a wooden cabin.
His owner was still in bed, inside –
their new home.
In front of him stood a shed,
smothered in that sweet smelling flower,
with a backdrop of coconut palms
that ran down to the pristine, white beach,
where a crystal clear emerald sea
gently licked the sandy shore.
It was heaven, on earth.
Then a bird sang again
and Aro looked on, in admiration.
There he was –
the most beautiful parakeet
Aro had ever seen,
and he had seen many
in the shop where he was born
and sold.
But this one was different –
he was free,
free as a bird.
This was something Aro had never seen –
life outside the cage.
Aro lived two years in that beautiful place
and then died,
unhappy.
Copyright © 01.06.1992 – Kevin Mahoney