What A Secret Feels Like

Alone the early morning birds
are laughing in the trees
The heavy clouds and blue, blue sky
like tie dye through the leaves

I hear a car pass down below,
crescendo and then fade
I take my eyes down from the trees and
turn them to the page

The words that appear beneath my pen are
too real to be true
I feel it running through my veins,
blood on the page is blue

In the day, the night sky looks
too far away to touch
I’d reach for it anyway, but
one arm isn’t long enough

Too bright the stars,
too high the climb
to come away with nothing
But even anticipation knows when nothing more is coming

At these inconsequential words
the birds laugh from the trees
While I sit below and
write the story
nobody will see.

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