February dribbles - 22
In dreams she flies high, eagle-eyed, and she’s free, till radios sing.
“Mama, wake up.” Small son crying.
“Mam. Did you miss your alarm?” Has the son somehow grown?
Years have passed. The eagle’s alone in a well of neglect, broken-winged, flown to dust.
“Love?” It’s time now for us.
“Mama, wake up.” Small son crying.
“Mam. Did you miss your alarm?” Has the son somehow grown?
Years have passed. The eagle’s alone in a well of neglect, broken-winged, flown to dust.
“Love?” It’s time now for us.
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