I find that I am afraid
            yet you're the one who's flying.
The empty nest?  A cavern.
            No clue what to think; what to do.
How does one proceed?
            What's the point of crying or trying
                          to hold a heart that's flown . . .
And that's the trouble;
            your heart, my heart,
                          all the same if the truth is known.
But you're the one with wings
            and you scare me with your fledgling flight.
I will be ok, but right now,
            I am afraid of your height.