You open the window,
stretched out is one arm,
waiting for happiness to fall
into the palm.
I put on our favourite song.
The old rhythm sounds like our footsteps back at school.
We lie on the bed,
absorbed are two idlers,
watching as memories drip down
from the ceiling.
I hear your breath.
The steady pace feels like the music in the background.
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I don't look back much as a rule