He wasn't in my dream this time; he paces along my window ledge and preens minding not who else is watching. He belongs in the orange tree at the end of my garden, but likes to tell me how happy he is standing here outside my window. I dream about letting him into my room to fly around... and now, here in the daylight I open my window. Later he will sit back in his orange tree, singing the songs he sang to me...
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