I finally told someone about you.
I said your name out loud.
I whispered it into the universe....
and I told my closest confidante.
It made us real.... not a figment of my imagination.
Not a secret to hide.
It felt good.
But when I got home, you were gone.
And it made me sad.
But now someone knows about you.
They know you came and perched on my windowsill,
even though it was only for a short while.
They know that somehow you made me believe that I'll fly again...
that I may be able to find my song again.
And that's how I know you were real.