A young bird, wounded in-flight

Looking for shelter

The wounds have healed.

Yet she still yearns for cover. 

On most days, she soars high in the sky

Fearless and free

Yet, at times, all she wants,

Is to come flapping down, curl up in the warmth of another wing span.

Catch me; not for I will fall.

But for I am tired.

Hold me, not for I will crumble

But for I am cold

Hug me, not for I need strength

But for I have mustered the courage to fly for this long.

Just see me, for who I am, who I can be, and 

show me the sign

While the wounds have healed a while ago

I am yet to feel just fine.