The Nightbird
The sounds he creeks out,
I wonder if they are out of fear or love.
repeat
repeat
repeat
three times for her
three times for instinct
three times for me.
He didn't know it was for me too.
But I was listening
when others were not looking.
I was making his beauty into a memory of mine.
He is silent now,
but here is where I keep his song.
Until the morning,
when the dew washes away thirst.
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