Rae Sinclair

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The Lark's Song

I'm sitting in my room,
Crying silently as I stare out the window,
And listen.

I hear a tiny song,
One that is not delicate or strong but yet it's both,
At the same time.
A lark.

I turn to look,
It's so frail.
But something gives it a fierce look.
My heart pangs to comfort it.

As I look at the face,
I see someone,
Me.

When it sees me,
It gives the same start.
But it sings on.
Tiny and confident,
Poor thing.

But I tilt back my head,
And let my voice,
Take me where it may.

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