Memory 20

It was the birds that awoke that memory. You, sleeping in every morning while he made my breakfast. I thought it was normal that way. It wasn’t, but it was good. 

Because now, I am you. And I am awake. I hear the birds, too. 

The one who is first and awakens the next. Etcetera.

You were not sleeping in. 

It was the birds. You had to listen. They told you the stories. 

You had to listen.

And now, you are the birds. I listen. While he makes me coffee.

It is good.