Are we so undeserving. Must they be reserved only for the night. Why can't you be my occupation. With lots of overtime. All the places I aint been or things I haven't done.
Hesitation is the smoking gun.
Stealing darkness from the nest of night. Like the perching of a swallow. Waiting on the perfect wind to loft him to the sky. How he was blessed with wings but afraid to try to fly. As his last kind climbs a gust and wings good bye.