come sit with me
there is very little time
the lamplight is taking over the sun
is going gold, rusting out in the shifting sky
feathery wings will stir up a wind
old and dusty
the songbirds are going home

come sit with me
my blankets are many
my eyes will adjust to your shape
let me draw your shadow
the tip of my finger raised in the air
so that i might remember it come springtime