Molting
In an attempt to
Escape–
Or– recover the losses;
Re-knitting the heart,
With a bit of crave
...To beat again.
As the snow falls
Upon the Apple-City,
The little bird will
Pack-up his luggage
And depart–
With all the things he
Carries within;
The memories and
Fragments of the heart.
The little bird will
Spread his wings
~•wide-open•~
And wander in the sky;
Exploring across the
Cali desert;
Like a reptile...
S h e d d i n g
The old skin.