With your wings guilded in browns and greys you glided smoothly across the forest breeze. Light pains of the wind brushed against your feathers this bitter winter but, it came much to normal now. Your wings were numb. Couldn't feel one feather at this very point. Seeing the last few leaves of autumn fall past you were gentle, delicate, floating swiftly in a premade pattern below. A bronze leaf landed perfectly onto you making you loose balance once the pins and needles kicked in. The shuffled flight of the robin soon came crashing into the cold stone. Drowning. Cold. Completely alone waiting to be eaten by hungry predators. The same as a sinking feeling known all too well. It took you down with it.

(Updated March 27th 2019)