Once full of flight,
A feathery white,
A dove soaring through the clouds--
Caught in a storm,
A tempest trying to drown,
Unable to withstand it.
Now sinking to rock bottom,
The storm twisting the wind,
Gnarling the feathers,
Breaking the wings,
Dimming the white into gray.

Though I am unable
To fly like I once did,
I'm learning that birds don't need wings--
They only need to find their song.