Ficly

Missing you

I sit mutely staring at the screen
while the radio ticks in my ear,
chords dreamt up by Mozart –
All bragging the glut of an orchestra,
they roll out endlessly to a sickening
surfeit.

And yet my mind chases the tail end
of sighing phrases
like a rabbit down a blind rabbit hole,
a rabbit that sits tersely sniffing the air.

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