NOT FOR SALE!

The breath of Autumn blows about

And plays beneath her skirt

While rainbow-colored toes

Are gliding sweetly through the dirt

She spins and bends and reaches out

To touch the setting sun

While silencing her critics

Who have kept her on the run

And perched upon a lofty vine

A lone bird watched her dance

And sang the sweetest melody

That captured her in trance

And lost in perfect rhythm

She took hold of its wings

But as the bird took flight with her

She felt the bitter sting

Of sharp and fiery fingertips

That carved into her flesh

Then pulled her from the sweet bird’s wing

And sold her off to DEATH

And now she waves her shackles

In that heartless, barren vale

While one bird weeps to all who pass

“NO, SHE IS NOT FOR SALE!”