The thought: he disappeared

There was a thought

who thought

—as some thoughts like to do—

he would be free

to roam on milky streets.

but he flew so fast,

he crashed into the lamp near the factory,

he landed on your upturned collar,

thinking

—now a habit already, it seems—

that this collar, turned up thus,

is a wall to fortress his demise.

“i love you”, he whispered,

or maybe he said, “i am home.”

he almost dropped when you

tripped over a soot black brick.

“hold on to me,” he begged.

when you sneezed your winter cold,

he whispered to you, “let’s go

to the early bakery, just me and you,”

to warmth, comfort, and more.

you carelessly turned down

your collar,

and the thought: he disappeared,

unthought-of, I fear!