By one of my favorite writers, Amra Ismail.
She went into recession,
Barred all doors,
Against a million healing influences
That could have made her human.
Instead she fell into a life of sin,
The tree became an iron drill,
To torture her day after day
It is the sparrow that escaped,
The concrete jungle of finesse,
That survived and found her,
To take her away in his hands
Like a romantic knight
Back into wilderness,
And show her the red, red tulips.
Time is running out
A smile creeps on her face
It is one in a million.