When the moon gets caught in the branches.
When the sparrows have bid you goodnight.
And the night has tumbled before you.
Staring out into the forest.
Think about me.
Perhaps if but for a moment.
And how it is I love you.
Still.
As the air.
As a heart in waiting.
Succumbing to the darkness that pervades.
Broken and wrought with sickness.
Incurable.