Heart-wrenched, I realise I have to go.
So long I’ve filled a niche in you so warm
no hail, or freezing rain, or sleet or snow,
tsunami, vulcan flame, or thunder storm
could have dammed me out or damped your glow.
Too much bedazzled like a moth sucked up
in woozy lack of air around your draw,
while buzzing, sniffing, at your honied cup,
your jammed domestic fireside’s open door
snapped shut; though uninvited, wrapped me up.
So I must fly — by dint of wit and will —
with hard emotion turn around my luck,
have strength of mind to quit your windowsill
and, happy in my place, become unstuck.