Final Days

Once he was a tiny bird. Under a cloudless sky, His own tree, and a ticket to an anywhere journey Once, I held his heart in my hands I left him on an island, where he turned to stone My eyes couldn't see beyond the end of my nose When he needed a platform to champion his cause He was raised in a hothouse of fear Always on parade, no let up, no privacy There was always a fire on the mountain Of his life, which seemed to revolve in circles, Loops like rabbit snares lurked ready to pull him back Sometimes he was a river in spate Sometimes he seemed to be flying over the world Like a kite, drifting, like a cloud floating Eggs turned into rocks in his thorny nest Slow motion moon steps, eyes pinned In the dark tunnel, where the dragon dives Death was stalking him like a creepy clown Was I blinkered and blindfolded not to see it coming? That skyscraper tumble, that bridge with the long fall Now, I'm judge of my own short-fallings So many needles in the haystack of memory The unwritten book where the queen Looks after the little happy prince, forever.