I feel as if I've collected bits of information about you Like a bird with bits of fluff and twigs Constructing a nest Making something warm and comfortable Out of tiny shards of something larger I wonder If they saw the trees from which their twigs fell If they would still recognize their home
written communication is so limiting. when I wrote this the only title that felt fitting was a snippet from the song "madeleine" by old amica. being an instrumental part, however, that's pretty impractical