Linger long enough
and I'll join you under
the sagging porch roof,
beneath a night that
whispers sleepily
to fill the hours before
daylight wanders in
for the morning shift.
I'll rock myself to sleep
in the old bentwood,
and you'll drift off, too,
before Orion has a chance
to say hello
or goodnight,
but he won't hold it against you.
And I'll be gone when you wake up,
but linger long enough
and I may just come back again
to sit for a spell
beneath the universe,
on top of the world,
in the old bentwood.