The Place Where Cranes Dwell

Good morning!

That look you get, you know, the one that says, “Be honest.”
Without ever actually opening that beautiful mouth of yours?

Of course, how silly of me.

And I chuckle to myself, though I do so loud enough
So you can hear
Not to draw ire from you, though
I chuckle for you, too

I know you would do the same
Were I in such a state as you are in now

The state of wondering
How could someone be so damn cheerful
So early?

My secret?

I wake long before you do.

And as I lay next to you
After hours, sometimes, of waiting
for that telltale sound you make

You know, the one where you say, “Good morning!”
Without ever opening that beautiful mouth of yours.
Somewhere between a sigh and smile

It is something of a small miracle that I do not attempt
To guile out of you those words, so that I may hear them

So I have my lips
Talk with yours

A good morning
Without ever having to open that beautiful mouth of yours.


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