There is one streak in me that

one day

giv­en the chance of a flim­sy rea­son

or two

will run away

lay fugi­tive in the long grass

until the sound of my feet fades away

and all I can hear is my heart beat­ing.

Then I realise the rest of me is bet­ter com­pa­ny


like a bird in the bush

I’ll fly to the hand.

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