He cares. But it's a cautious care, a through to the wind. It sits upon a kite, ready to dive down and touch the ground at the first sign of cloudy skies.

He reminds me of the color red. The way it is warm, for he is. He sits on the edge of his chair and he listens. He lets me in, sharing the thoughts that float inside his head. 

Yet he is distant and he scares me and I don't ever want to get too close. He impresses me, he holds his head high and I'm afraid he will miss my short stature among the crowd. 

He is a beautiful bird, and I am just hoping I can awkwardly flap my wings, just hard enough, to be able to touch him, if just briefly. And show him for a moment that I am good enough. 


My Identity




December 2018