Not every song comes from open skies—some rise from within cages, carrying stories of care, trust, and a quiet longing we often overlook.
Chirps of Love
Morning slips in through measured light,
Brushing gold on feathers bright,
Two small souls on a wooden line,
Holding skies in a space confined.
They have not chased the boundless blue,
Yet carry fragments of its hue,
A flicker, a trill, a sudden call—
Tiny wings, yet they answer all.
The cage may shape the world they see,
But not the song of what could be,
Each note they weave, so soft, so free,
Hums with lost immensity.
They follow clouds they cannot chase,
Read the wind they cannot embrace,
Dream, perhaps, of distant trees,
Of restless air and nameless seas.
Still, they trust the hands that stay,
That bring them light and seeds each day,
A bond unspoken, quietly strong,
Breathing between care and song.
On this National Pet Day, remember this—
Love is more than gentle bliss,
It asks of us to truly see
The life behind dependency.
For even within the smallest frame,
A heart still burns, untamed the same—
And what we give, or take away,
Defines their sky, their night, their day.
-Gautam Jha
Chirps of Love
Morning slips in through measured light,
Brushing gold on feathers bright,
Two small souls on a wooden line,
Holding skies in a space confined.
They have not chased the boundless blue,
Yet carry fragments of its hue,
A flicker, a trill, a sudden call—
Tiny wings, yet they answer all.
The cage may shape the world they see,
But not the song of what could be,
Each note they weave, so soft, so free,
Hums with lost immensity.
They follow clouds they cannot chase,
Read the wind they cannot embrace,
Dream, perhaps, of distant trees,
Of restless air and nameless seas.
Still, they trust the hands that stay,
That bring them light and seeds each day,
A bond unspoken, quietly strong,
Breathing between care and song.
On this National Pet Day, remember this—
Love is more than gentle bliss,
It asks of us to truly see
The life behind dependency.
For even within the smallest frame,
A heart still burns, untamed the same—
And what we give, or take away,
Defines their sky, their night, their day.
-Gautam Jha
