you can bend your chair backwards
to breath in a space like this,
if only to stretch your legs,
as i walk my own length passing.
at times i wonder if you reflect
what i do in my feathered world,
sitting at your table kindled by the
rustle of my reminiscing joys to while away
the quiet times of missing you;
i, outside of all this, am oblivious
to your minutiae and yet left
to wonder why i glow so warmly
as you sing your little songs
and settle even farther into
my most private, indeterminable hallways.
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