|not an owl|
Just, you know, seeing what you're doing because sometimes I think a story would do quite nicely right now. Dialogue with your daughter. An observation you made. Your music. What you see.
You provided the grandest of distractions.
It was unique and funny and there are a million of those, I guess.
It's just that sometimes I miss what you wrote, and I hope it wasn't me who got in your way.
(that is me pretending I could have any influence over what you do)
I won't bend. I won't break. But I will stop pretending and just enjoy what you're willing to give.
(because I loved what you did)