Sunday, June 23, 2024

Baby Bird (This poem is dedicated to my guardian angel, Grandpa).

 Hush, Little Bird. Don't say a word.
I've seen your tears and felt your hurt.
You've had your cry, now it's time to
Sing! Be brave and jump out of the
Safe security of your nest.

Through me, you will soar great heights!
I am the wind beneath your wings.
The migration North, will not be an easy flight.
But eventually you will reach your destination,
Guided by my familiar comforting Light.
With the friendly assistance of the sun,
nothing possible is out of sight.


- Alexandra Pierotti.
 

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