A bird she comes to my window.
Her feathers the color of the world.
The song whistled familiar.
A branch just out of my reach.
Her stand taken and grip firm.
She watch's looking for something.
I hear her sing all day out there.
Her tone crisp and in here too.
Even on sunny days I hear her.
When I lay under cover as well.
She comes to my dreams.
The notes floating in my window.
Even with her nest far from here.
Her wings flap to carry her.
Watching me from outside.
She is here to tease me.
For she knows she can fly.
© Jeph Rants
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