The sky is full
Of swirling color:
Pinks and oranges
And yellow-hued quiet;
Every morning you
Choose distance
Is another that pulls
Me into dreams that
Aren’t called your name
And don’t play
Our song;
Know that I’m a bird
And I rather love
The endless
And the free,
And I may already
Be soaring
Further than your reach
Should you ever
Extend
Your hand
