The odds of life have stolen your wake.
And flowers of hope have lost your hold.
I will take you across the sunken bridge.
Where bunnies and cats will keep you warm.
And bees and birds will feed you sweet.
I promise to let you dream and run with the snails.
On her way back home, she spotted the Curling Corn. A tiny sundown bird that curls its abounding wings, visible only to the saffron eyed. It shimmered like gold and fluttered sparks across the pious skies. Awed, she quietly followed the bird with mounting eagerness to find its nest.