I guess it's too late for coffee
Not quite right for chocolate either
The moment is calling for massage
Long, slow breathing
Leaning into, luxuriating
But all I have are twist-untied wrappers
And quiet telephones
And empty inboxes
I guess it's too late to reach for you
Not quite right for rejection
The moment is calling for awareness
The birdsong is calling for the usual mystery
And I am no longer lonely.
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