Molting

In an attempt to

Escape–

Or– recover the losses;

Re-knitting the heart,

With a bit of crave

...To beat again.

As the snow falls

Upon the Apple-City,

The little bird will

Pack-up his luggage

And depart–

With all the things he

Carries within;

The memories and

Fragments of the heart.

The little bird will

Spread his wings

~•wide-open•~

And wander in the sky;

Exploring across the

Cali desert;

Like a reptile...

S h e d d i n g

The old skin.

#poetry