AngelicDragonPuppy

The soft cry of some evening bird drifted through the garden, and shortly after the maker took flight, a dark little silhouette against the hazy sky. It was summer, late despite the fact that the sun still stained the world red, and it was a year since it had happened. The platform in the middle of the village still had the circular singe, and the metal table its dark stains, but it was over. The scars remained, yes, but the pain was gone, mostly. Mostly… A figure moved through the long shadows of the sunset, pacing back and forth, slowly, around the flower beds and fountains and the low lights that kept the place illuminated against

A mixture of eleven letters Releases from metallic prison A stately dove, all pure feathers To accept a lone commission Through countless lesser voices Free from every bond and wire While its sender waits, word choices One solo message through all the mire A journey of a thousand miles In the beat of one bird's wing Her voice falters, nervous smiles Hoping for a single thing Then the dove returns to bestow The priceless gift of one hello.