I wonder, if the little bird that brings me tidbits, has flown far away or trapped in a cage of me…
We move,
syncopated time —
my duple time crotchets
to your triple time quavers
in a perfectly complex rhythm…
I would have gone with “No, you don’t; it’s mine, MINE, ALL MINE!” But that sounds…erm…yeah…
You may find me Dark, Darling, but I’m Sweet in my own way, Honey.