Ma'am, there's been an accident

And the westward wind blows heartache
across a brow furrowed by age.
She stands before an opened door
but still can feel the cage.
Enrapt by all who've gone before,
before her sentimental mentality of rage.
She stands aghast before the dorr,
agape from her ghostly rage.

And the eastern sun never rises
before her soul bereft of sight.
She stammers, trying to step forth,
to find her strenght too light.
Helpless here without her worth,
worth more than she has a right.
She stumbles back without going forth,
for she has forgotten the worth in sight.

And the northern lights, reflecting not,
knowing they cannot be seen.
She sits upon a wooden floor
unkept, with pride unclean.
Lost in thought so overwrought,
wrought from a past serene.
She slumps upon a wooden floor,
unkept with lights unseen.

And the southern drawl keeps whispering
to the ears and souls above.
She closes her eyes and cries here,
for all the were dreaming of.
For closed doors and kept cages,
rages unseen by the light of love.
She closes her mind and locks her soul
away from all they had been dreaming of.