Goldfinch

He’s like a bright, yellow Goldfinch.

Teasingly out of reach,

Yet calling with his song to be admired.

Soaking up every bit of my attention,

Yet flying ceaselessly from my fingertips. 

His embrace is like my childhood home.

Domestic, warm and safe. 

A home you walk into without knocking,

And kick your shoes off into the nearest corner.

A home with the fireplace going, and the evening news on.

A home that smells like the skin of the people you love,

Like their life-breath is lingering on every surface.

His smile is like a warm summer wind.

Sweeping me up,

Tangling around every piece of my body,

Until there is no part of me untouched.

Awakening my senses,

Connecting me to the world around me,

Shocking me alive.

His walk is like the first snow of winter.

Like a swiftly slammed door.

He’s the final wave to your lover at the airport,

As you crane to see her walk towards her gate.

He leaves like the empty feeling after a party.

When everyone has gone home.

When all that’s left,

Is the disturbed furniture,

And crushed paper cups,

To tell you the room,

Was once,

Full. 

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