Little wing,
I remember
another time, of old.
Now you think you have grown.
You do not want, I know
My warm wings, to hold you;
rein you in anymore.
You think that you soar.
I always believed in freedom.
I undo the jess.
Fly, happy falcon, free and high
While I dissolve like smoke
Slowly, lone, and quietly
Into night’s wood, my home.
An emotionally tender work ,lovingly crafted.
thanks louis 🙂
read and love it . thanks
thanks 🙂