Right now I can hear music, unkempt, but still keeping a melody,
I suppose I hope that it’ll stay that way
and currently, I have friends,
I also hope that stays the same.
and on the darker nights,
when I reach out to the stars,
when they’ll quiver through the glistening blue fog,
I like to talk to the moon.
they tell me about the sun
and I tell them about what I hope for
for us
how I’ll see my friends,
and we’ll be eating homemade pies that taste quite good,
even if they didn’t bake quite right,
laughing, together, in our wobbly mismatched chairs
Talking all night and into the early, persimmon tinted morning hours
and then the sun will rise and the sky turns
from persimmon to a glaring cobalt blue
and then I will sit in the notch of a tree
and I’ll converse with the sun.
they’ll tell me about the moon,
and I’ll tell them about how me and my friends talked a lot,
about what is real, and what is not
about everything, which is ultimately nothing
and I tell them that I would grin when they would gestures wildly
and accidentally slip and slap my face
but I hope that it will be like that forever
because it only ever makes me smile
I hope I’ll still have music
and trees with notches to climb
I hope that I can keep talking to the sun and moon
and that I can keep trying to properly make homemade pie
and right now being ourselves, together, is enough
so the biggest thing I hope for… is that it always stays that way