A fathers tale of love found in the harsh conditions of the north, during the Klondike gold rush. This is my first short story on this site, so please comment, and tell me how I can improve!

I would like to thank everyone who takes the time to read this story. I am in no way a perfect writer, nor must I admit am I a perfect person, but then again who is? Union came from my flawed mind, and as having done so it is flawed itself. The point is that creating stories is more than just putting words on a page. When you create a story, you are creating a world, and you are inviting your readers to delve into that world and live through the eyes of your characters. Union is a fiction, and therefore has no meaning beyond the words which you read. Yet every story has a meaning to those who read it, and to their authors that had it in them to create that story. So, it may have no meaning to the world in a larger sense, but we all search out stories we can identify with. That is what I seek, to create stories which my readers can identify with, so that when they delve into my world, they leave with something more than they had before. So, I finish this foreword with a question. What is it you wish to gain in my world?

Broken Wings was written for my Great Grandpa's funeral and is very near and dear to my heart for that reason. It took me a while to decide to publish it, and I hope it finds a place in your heart as it has done for me.

This is my first venture into published poetry so constructive criticism is welcome, and appreciated.