After the rain
in the drowsy
night garden
when the air
is drenched
and diffused
with the delectable
scent of sleep
That is when
I will sing
If you
should hear me
over the yawn
of the traffic
and through the
vagaries of
dulcet dreams
do call to me
and I will
alight upon
your moonlit
window sill
but if
I should awake
and the air
is not charged
with my name,
and your voice
I will know
you did not
hear me
that you do
not seek me
and that it
is time to go
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