She smiled beneath her scarf,
offered a place I no longer go.
No questions held, no answers kept—
just names written in air.
The bag was gone.
I searched the hours.
But on the floor,
a key waited,
exactly where I left it.
Birds perch beneath the light,
not soaring,
not caged—
simply there.
Stillness before the next direction.
Felt, Paint & Reflection 