Spring Song

Spring Song

I heard your song for the
longest time.
I sat—listening.

A pen in hand,
your notes became words
on this page.

Still, it did not end

No, it actually began
when the words began to
create your image.

Colors lit the page—
your song discovered
a new pitch.

Your wings fanned out,
growing in strength.
You would fly gain.

I hear it in your song.



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