Lionel

 

You could see the bottom
Of my reflection
In the meadow, I watched your shadow
Flitter from bloom to bloom,
And maybe, I could feel
The butterfly wings
But I touched them
And you died
And you never migrated back
And the spring did not spring
The sunlight feels too hot
You never were mine,
And that's fine
It's fussy of me to stay attached
I was just decor for your image
A little model train in a little model train set
Speeding through tiny tunnels
And little towns filled with clay and plastic
The bread baking on the windowsill;
You walk across the street,
You deliver a letter sent by someone to someone else
I stretch the truth
The clock runs out of battery,
The sun sets early
The birds peck at my windowpane