now I will tell you mine if you promise
to wrap your wise and weathered bark
around them, pull them to your center
where rain and sun and despair can no
longer find them, remind them of their
failings and their flailings and their fear.
May I sit awhile? Here, hold my smile,
for the sun has warmed it well, and I
can tell your aching limbs are tired of
holding up the sky. Let’s cry, you and
me, right here, where we can shed small,
quiet tears right into our own reflections,
set them free of star-spilled wishes, and
what we couldn’t say, watch it float away.