Thinking of You - POEM

 A small bird hops across the windowsill,

its feathers ruffled like a morning bed.
It looks at me, not afraid,
just curious—like a friend
who forgot why they came over,
but stayed anyway.

The sun spills unevenly on the floor,
like it’s learning how to pour itself
through the sky’s tired hands.
I let it warm my toes,
even though it’s barely there,
just a whisper of light
saying, you’re not alone.

In the corner, a plant I keep forgetting to water
still reaches for the window.
It doesn’t blame me.
It just keeps growing,
slowly, quietly,
believing I’ll remember eventually.

There’s a sweater I left on the chair—
you wore it once,
said it smelled like books and cinnamon.
Now it smells like dust and missing you.
But it’s soft.
And I keep it there, just in case
you ever forget your jacket.

I don’t know if this is what love is—
a little messy, a little sleepy,
a little bird pausing just long enough
to make me smile.
But it feels like something
worth keeping warm.