Our thoughts hanging over us,
invisible text balloons, colliding, flirting,
some of yours mating with mine,
and new thoughts are born.
They will once set off into life,
freed cage birds,
no longer intertwined in our speech, gone
with more and more blue skies in between.
You have a way with words, I say
and I think you know what I mean,
as your hands are a bird now,
flying silently, fluently, away.