Like this, her life continued on,
Shielded, fed from dusk til dawn.
But privileged friends began to fade,
And her time, too, soon came along.

The hour of dusk, time's tirade,
Came with its sharp and dark-edged blade.
Not ready for night after summer day's games,
The bird, caught off guard, found her bed was unmade.

Surprised by the night, dreams set aflame,
The bird began tumbling down into shame.
Born into comfort, perpetually blessed,
It was only a curse with an uncommon name.

She beat her wings with wild unrest,
But was sorely weighed down by all of life's "best".
She tried hard to fly, but found she could not
And plummeted far down from her nest.