This morning I woke

with you on my mind

and like a child 

opening that gift 

whose contents are 

no mystery, 

I tore back the 

curtain.

You'd be there, 

On your perch.

I was certain. 

Like a child whose 

fingers fiercly tug 

at the taped-shut

cardboard flaps

and peers inside 

to find not the 

coolest toy but...

... slacks...

I pawed at the 

blinds

and peered outside

to find that you weren't

on your perch. 

You'd gone.

Flown away, 

to claim someother home.