A gilded cage, pigeons dwelled,
Fed on grains the wild once held.
Golden bowls of water near,
No storming near, no night in fear.
Silken roofs to guard their sleep,
Where no mosquito dares to creep.
Fellows kept, homes ordained
Yet, Liberties sky they never grind.
One noon, three sparrows came,
Weathered wings, yet hearts aflame.
Craving eyes beheld the feast,
Dreams of plenty, rich at least.
The sparrows gasped-How sweet your days!
No toil, no chase, no hunger haze.
But fowl sighed with quiet breath
We trade our skies for living death.
You labor hard, yet soar the skies,
We eat in peace, yet freedom dies.
The costliest trove the world may we ,
not its feast , but the flight we woe!
