He woke up
one morning.
He looked to the sun,
raising up to top.
He lifts his head,
I still sleep.
He stands
and opens his wings.
The feathers shake
as the wind blows
and one of his feathers
touches my face.
Soft and sweet,
the feather
brushes on my face.
Slowly,
my eyes open.
He stands high
and tall.
His wings,
wide open.
One leep
and he leaves.
He flies,
high in the sky.
I stand,
watch,
as he leaves
to a new future.
He left,
hes gone.
Yes,
my borther,
has left the nest.
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