Her only anguish

The quill scratches.
The fire roars.
A bird opens her wings
And tries to soar.
Her mind is content
But she obviously wants more.
Her heart flutters in anticipation
As slippers grace across the dance floor.
She looks around the brightly lit room.
Her eyes are drawn to the door.
There he is with arms wrapped around another.
Tears begin to pour.
Shoes dashed out at the quickest pace.
Heading towards the moor.
Her heart is broken; her grief is clear.
What is she doing this for?
The quill scratches
The fire roars.
A bird opens her wings
But she doesn’t soar.