O' despondent bird, whose song rests torn apart,
I shall open my window and shades,
I cannot promise the past, no brand new start,
Instead take in the warmth and succor,

How your feathers have marred, beaten down from the rain,
We shall caress and clean your wings,
How your talons chipped from carrying all your pain,
Tis a wound that will take some time,

This hearth is a home, a place for you to take rest,
You can leave when you are ready,
May your wings carry joy, that vibrant sunset,
And your song speak of love again,

Return when you begin to tire and strain,
I will be here to open my heart and shades again,

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Lupar, in the year 949 AF.