It's Me I've Been Waiting For...Of Course This Life Is Possible

It was one of those glorious mornings you hear about in all the stories. Bare feet, chipped nail-polish and wild strands of hair brushing past your face, teasing you with the scent of perfume from the night before. And there she was, leaning on the railing at the top of her stairway, thinking this was the only revelation that will ever matter to her. With bright eyes and an uncontrollable smile raging war against her lips, she laughed. 

I was my own yellow bird all along.