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  • She’s curled in her chair

    Feet tucked

    Eyes bright

    Close enough to touch

    But far beyond reach

    I could call her

    She’d return

    Look up

    Perhaps even smile

    Life calls so often thus

    Smiling but insistent

    Until we turn away

    Tear our eyes from cloudscapes

    ranged peaks

    horizons purpled by distance

    Return to the rank and pile of chore and daily grind

    such a pretty chain of links

    the string of petty wants and need’s cousins thrice removed

    oh but chains, they do chafe and bind

    Even golden ones,

    Perhaps more.

    No I keep quiet

    rather let her soar,

    wander fancy free,

    better thus, the lonely altitudes

    better thus the silence of midnight forests,

    the provinces of hawks and owls

    I watch her brush back her hair

    Lean forward

    I know then the wild rush of wind beneath my wings

    ‘tis enough

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