The crows keep following me,
landing on the building as I show up to work.
Lighting the way
while I walk down the street.
Beating their wings against my face
as I dream.
Always they ask,
“When are you coming back
…
home.”
The crows keep following me,
landing on the building as I show up to work.
Lighting the way
while I walk down the street.
Beating their wings against my face
as I dream.
Always they ask,
“When are you coming back
…
home.”