I find there candy wrappers and mittens,
old homework and a small ring.
My everyday carelessnesses.
on the floor wistful dreams and hopes, their
all deflated and crumpled.
by the window who begins to struggle anew,
rustling against the glass because I am here now and it
I will throw open the window so it might soar once more.
But I had forgotten this one
so long ago.
I can barely recognize it as my own. In fact, I can barely see it at all.
the blank sound of its fragile wings drumming on the glass
seems real. It's flickering, dancing so that there is
of ever catching hold.
It would make me sad
I don't remember this one, not at all,
so I can't cry.