I will always think of you when I hear crows.
Think of your woods where I belonged for a time.
Kicked out of your Eden back to mine
Or what suffice to find.
What a strange thing this imbalance!
I do not even know if you ever thought of us.
I know I sat long enough at the door to imagine
You were apart of us.
But I am nothing
Not even a ghost to haunt your shadow.
You have more important things to do, don’t you?
And I will never be able to completely unravel
The threads that pulled me in and held my attention
What was you, what was someone else, what was my imagining? 
And does it matter?

The crows follow me as I go
and they always seems to know.