sparrows.

3/3/10.

She is flying,
higher than she's ever been before.
But the air is thin here,
thin and unfamiliar.
She is struggling to keep
her head held high.
She falls,
and she almost crashes.
But she perseveres.
She is weary.
She is small,
she is frail.
Her heart flutters,
struggles with the weight of the world.
If she can just make it home,
she can rest her weary head.
And then she sees him,
and he holds her.
“Rest your wings,”
he whispered.
She slipped her hand into his,
realized she is home.
Like a sparrow,
they always come back home.