I spend my days wasting the world away, replaying our favorite song. Our favorite song says something like falling in love is a crime, but I didn’t get it until I’d committed treason of my own heart and my feelings. When the sun isn’t shining, and the rain softly patters I hum the beat and tap my feet to the 1. 2. 3. Stomp of the rain. When the wind is blowing, I whistle the chorus with the birds who nest high up in the trees away from it all. But then I wondered how else do I go about spending my time when the scream of the tea kettle reminds me of us. How do I go about humming a different tune when the birds don’t want anything but we. The birds and I want you and me.