I’ve lost my ways, forgotten and tilted,
My wings, they’ve bent all up and wilted.
They’ve shook out wildly their last flutter,
Left me to scramble my eggs in butter.
I used to hold my whispers tightly
But now I’m lost forever, nightly.
And to my breath I speak not warmth
For long gone dark, my sunken hearth.
When gone I’d toil a long days work,
To make a home, to fill my fork.
Though since my leaf has been unsheathed
I’ve lost my will to hold, to breath.
I pray to come, a return of my memory
To overcome my being, my sensory.
But if I were to forget it all,
Would I ever wonder how?