i knew you were in torpor.
for the winter air, just like before,
didn’t allow you to soar
nor spread your wings;
or create new beginnings.
but now we’re at an ending—
and i could just remember
how close you were
by the dying ember;
singing a tune or two,
of a melody just for you.
but the sad, cold nights are over,
maybe you have heard.
so now—rejoice and fly higher;
sing as you soar,
my little bird!
-fin-
(image source: kkart| DeviantArt)
Pessimistic Reveries 