Work Text:
A promise, broken
as the shell is whole—
keep the fledgling safe, swoop
to save you if you fall
instead of fly.
Too late.
Spring turned to summer.
May’s hyacinth rots under July’s red sun.
I mourn the bird that might have been.
A promise, broken
as the shell is whole—
keep the fledgling safe, swoop
to save you if you fall
instead of fly.
Too late.
Spring turned to summer.
May’s hyacinth rots under July’s red sun.
I mourn the bird that might have been.
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