When you describe Europe I am there
with you-with my eyes closed, which is wonderous
having never been.
You talk about a concert,
and your face takes me to that place,
flushed skin and bright pupils
hands echoing the conductor

On those warm afternoons when you are gone
you leave music playing and windows open

When it's cold you build fires and burn candles
and put blankets on the floor
although you are upstairs, already

You have moved the world for me
and have given me sounds and sights I have never had.
and never will have

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