silence.
the quiet of night.
the bitter
sigh
of lost winds.
the flap of wings.
the infrequency of touch
with home base.
of love,
and small talk.
the chatter of the air waves.
off the radar,
the scope,
the world map
of who we are.
flying solo like
Amelia,
never to be found
again.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
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