Will you come with me

into the evergreens?

We will tiptoe like birds, just a crackle through the bushes,

which have died with such radiance, now dried and partial bodies folded, some still hanging by a tiny forest thread

With a whir of wings when we need it, we will ascend

you there, me here

lifted by the wind and whispers

that flutter with the myth

that we are uncaged

yellow bird



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