3.5 miles: running

I left my gate leading up the stairs to dwell and I heard your tune humming through the breeze. I followed my ears with the notes floating on the breeze waiting to hear your song again. And there you were, just a tiny bird with a coat modest and true-hoping that when I left my gate I might be able to hear your tune. You floated with me as I stepped over the cracks and crossed to rid myself of people. And the strangest thing happened today that while you floated away saving your hello for another day, I could not get rid of your song. Your song road me up the hills and down, past street corners and cornered worries. The notes continued to stay as I looked up at the sunkissed trees, waving at bikers passing by. But no matter how many rooftops continues to pass- while you floated away saving your hello for another day, I could not get rid of your song. 

I imagined your humble coat, something we probably all feel. Like the colors have been extinguished just a little. But as I was going across the bridge having a new set of worries, your birdie friend looked at me with a little chuckle. As if to say that our wings, though stuck inside are still continuing to spread. Perhaps it's those immodest colors, those self-centered ideas that are simply starting to shed. As I ran the last block, people sticking their heads out the doors just for a little fresh air. You floated with me again as I stepped over the cracks, coat modest and true-hoping that when I ended my dream, I might be able to hear your tune. So here I am writing, thinking about wings and tunes and many modest coats. The strangest thing happened today that while you floated away, saving your hello for another day, I still cannot get rid of your song.