The Beckon of A Life

A whisper of life. Afraid to live, afraid to fly Cocooned in the Warmth of my palms. Looks up with wishful eyes. “Could I live here?”, the little thing Asks of me. “Right here in the folds,¬†between The clouds and the grass.” It’s tiny aspirations, catching me Off-guard. Before I could say, bits of ItsContinue reading “The Beckon of A Life”