I like to imagine myself soft as down. All cream and pastel.
Much like a mama bird I would pluck the softest parts of me to build a safe place for you to rest.
Too stubborn to unburden myself of youthful idealism, but running short on feathers I find myself a fragile bundle of sharp edges.
I feel if I am not careful I could poke you, right in the eye.
But in this nest I've built for you,  crafted from the most tender, and pure parts of myself,  I find I can lay at ease.
Shielded from any storm or draft I take comfort in the soft wisps of your hair on by cheek.
Love is nothing new to me, but I have found there's no place like home. 
There was a time when I thought I knew how to carry that feeling with me. A time when nothing weighed heavy on my back. 
I have claws just as any other bird, but I am but a common wren.
For you I would give the world.  Even knowing one day,  you must leave our nest, to spread new plumage of your own.