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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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