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.