little voice there no great deeds following the name black as crows or white s angels wings no trials of faith or love there is a piece of life short or long she does not know through which she must travel until the end a tortoise with shell a cell of fear dreams abandoned as too painful with promises that will not come true dreams are words scratched on brown paper bags that slip through the cracks birds that flutter unfledged to the street below washed by rain into the gutters