Wings
Old stories creep along my arms.
Extend through my knuckles.
Age plays tricks, as I remain a bird.
I forgot that I’ve left the nest, flown around the world.
My flock revolves around their sphere in other nests.
My ancestors’ stories fly by as I lift my wings.
~ Abbe
No comments have been added yet.
Abbe's Notes
Quick morning writes that begin before the sun rises and while my partner sleeps.
- Abbe Rolnick's profile
- 49 followers
