the sound of reluctant mornings.

the sound of cooing doves
is the sound of a reluctant morning.
the sun comes through the window,
and i'm robbed of my blankets once again.
oh, the sacrifices made for friendship.

the sound is one of bare feet
running through a backyard.
jurassic park trees are all around me,
a broken treehouse fillled with
giggles of childhood friendship.

we run out of her room, our bare
feet smacking against theh hardwood floors,
percussion to the dove's melody.
as we crunch our cocoa puffs,
i listen for the bird's repeated calls.

the calls echo through the trees,
stemming from unseen sources.
i wonder what the bird is calling for,
why it sings the same song each morning
as we wake. then i hear the
answering call of a different dove, and i realize.

we call for friendship.