Precariously perched
Upon a hot wire
She flimsily clings
Placing everything in memory
Like a chest of drawers
Easily assessed when necessary
Just above
The city skyline
Sun rising
Dawn
A new day
A new song
Time to fly
Freely
Far away
The time is now
Her soul has already decided
The season is changing
Eyes open widely
Breathing in every detail
This flight must not fail
The gentle dove knows
Her time is growing near
She must be intentional
Strategic
Sensing the atmosphere
Intuitively knowing
The exact location
Which holds safety
She’s always known
She fluffs her wings
and takes flight
She is never alone
About the Creator
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More stories from Amelia Laken and writers in Poets and other communities.
Trouble at the Tea Leafing Café
The rain had started right around the time that Annie was buttering her second thick slice of homemade toast for breakfast, and hadn’t paused since. Not that anyone could tell. The windows of the café were fogged over, and with every seat filled with happy customers munching on fresh baked pastries or steaming bowls of the delicious soup of the day, it was hardly surprising. Annie looked around the room, finally taking a moment to breathe after the lunch time rush. Her old life already felt like a bad memory, a part of her history, always, but just that. History.
By Hannah Moore5 days ago in Fiction
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