Your weathering the storm. A great storm you are flying into. A sea storm of life on the edges of a bird. Not all birds can love and
dream the way you do little bird. It's the way you fly into the storm that twittles the bigger birds feathers.
Your a bird so true. Your nest is a deep place for your summer rests. A place to dream and a place of thought. The other birds might not rest as you
do so their storm is untrue.
A light in the night of your true beak you sing us a beautiful tune. A tune so loud and proud all the other birds join in to help sing your tune. A
tune of life a tune of all true tunes.
My high flying bird I am proud of the tune you played for others to share. I kiss you away and now I will let you go.
My high flying bird. I set you free in hopes you return to me and we can start a new tune. Don't cry...
edit on 4 9 2016 by
Quantum12 because: (no reason given)
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