My palm rises to you

Greeting with platonic sincerity

Five-fingered umbra in the silver light

Your other friends wink and smile in the dark canopy

Quaint company more suiting for you, than me

Can you admire them, as you beam inconsistently

Above the shady oak groves?

Do you feel the heat that melts my sleep?

Might you see the things below you

The decay, the fire, the fumes…