We’ll waste our few remaining nights,
Enjoy the pointlessness of sleep,
Then call on friends we’d lost to time,
On days we should be fighting for.
We’ll make our pacts we know we’ll break.
We’ll tell our loved ones nothing new:
Revealing any more would just
Leave them with more questions.
And then we’ll turn our faces up
To sun or clouds, to stars or snow.
We’ll kiss the rain and know it’s true.
As if we had one moment more.
We’ll run the emerald fronds of plants
Through fingers touched by magic.