In time, it’ll be gone.
But that’s okay. It’ll be back.
It’s a wish carried away.
Cereal in the bowl.
The croak of a frog.
A kiss blown from across the room.
So I will shut the door.
So I will pull down the windows.
The final gasp of air. Sealed.
And the sounds will be muted.
Unmistakable still.
Here but tempered, there but gone.
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