I look forward to being stranded
again, if not for life; here I bend
where I am not due yet to wither.

If love ever eases in today
for me to pull by the roots, I may
draw a pact with its idle motor.

Let birds raise their business to the sky.
They will have to slump back in trees by
the time I am a sunset richer.

I do not need old dreams to put me
to sleep, heavy as I already
am with what will never be in store.

I may have room for company, yes.
If you are one more after my flesh.