The Parrot

Ila Railkar


Lunch time at last

A morsel of solace from the undeserving boss

I play cute secretary to

Inwardly seething


The lush green parrot

Proud and tall, perched on the table before me

Greeting me with a sunny smile

Without a care


I asked him if he was set free

At which he laughed, without humour: I chirped sweet words on request,

And dolled up and played as they wished

Why would they ever set me free?


Was it worth it at all

I asked him with bated breath, keen eyes fixed on me

He unfurled his wings wide in reply

Blood red beak glistening


The boss’s sharp tone then rang out

I shook myself from the reverie – how real it had seemed!

But as I steeled myself to face him I saw

A dark green feather on my table

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