The Sparrow

Once a year

The Sparrow heads South.

Not for warmth,

Not for peace

And not to just see old friends.

It is a pilgrimage flight,

From Frozen Heart

To Frozen Land.

The blue-winged Sparrow

Picks up the Southern hues

And relishes in the delight

Of a heart that

Once again can be shut away.

Bringing scarlet hues

Back from the yesteryears.


Last Resort – Papa Roach

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