Red Ribbon Ponytails

She remembered her red-ribbon ponytails,

The joy of rain on her skin,

The voice of her mother’s lullaby,

The dolls made of wood and tin.

Wading through teary waters,

Chains, where once her wings was,

She searched for a sapling of hope,

Something that would her beating heart some cause.

Her life had become a vicious circle,

Cuffs of society not letting her free,

The mocking chirps of birds outside her window,

The far-away sky, only she could see.

Her heart yearned for a miracle,

To break out of this human-hive,

To stretch her wings and fly away,

To live while she was alive.

Laying on her bed,

She saw the little angel next to her,

Like a Princess she was sleeping,

Her mind as delicate as fur.

She hoped a better life for her,

A life where she was free,

A life where nobody chained her wings,

Where she could fly over those gardens of tea.

She smiled as she stroked,

Her hands across her face,

Moving down her hair,

Stopping only at her red-ribbon ponytails.