Little Wren

"That bird outside your window, what does it sing to you?" Does it have feelings, or is it just a bird? It is a child, a baby bird, not yet ready to spread its wings. Its feelings knock at my window every morning, its voice resonates like a flute playing a soft song inside a thicket of other chirping birds. Those birds block its voice.... If only I could understand what it is saying...

The bird has grown a bit, it is now cold and frigid and the air is thin and hazy. My windows have been consumed by the frost, I cannot see the bird and I can't hear its voice... Yet I know in my heart that the bird shakes in the cold and lonely nights. I pray it survives the storm.

The sun rose over the bright green field, the sharp light pierced threw my window. I had been thinking about the bird, a Wren they call it. I heard a resonating voice outside earlier, it sounded like the Wren and as I see it again, it isn't a baby anymore. Its voice is not muffled anymore either, there were no birds other than her in my line of sight. When I listen to my surroundings I can't hear any birds other than the Wren. I can now admire her voice, she sang a brand new song. As I recall it she sang about her busy day, a sweet song melody it was. I could understand her, her feelings were of all the colors in the rainbow.

I listen to her stories everyday, I told her she could tell me all her worries. We have great fun, she even tried to teach me how to fly once, understandably I was incapable of doing so; but still she always had a smile on her face, and her jokes were nothing short of amazing. If I had wings to fly like her I would soar above the clouds and into the blue, i'd put my wings to the test and I would do my best to be by her side forevermore. The next time I saw her I asked "Little Wren, could we be friends?" She replied with "Of course!" Her smile was brighter than I had ever seen it before. I had a feeling she'd been waiting for me to ask that ever since we met.

When I think about it more, there isn't ever a dull moment with her. I am not sad she is growing up, I am just sad she has to grow up. That we have to grow up. "I know that eventually I won't physically by her side anymore and that is the truth that makes me the most sad". "So, when you asked me what she sings to me, I wouldn't say she is the one singing to me but rather I am the one singing to her."

"Little Wren, you are free..."