The ground caves way as it lets me in. Almost as if I was meant to be here in tangles of grass. With the bugs With the sun beaming down on my taught skin of age. My ribs itch my skin And my eyes watch clouds and stars until they dissolve with the beauty of it all. The trees sing, and I listen with shriveled ears until I no longer listen. I sink, and sink, and sink, And then, can I finally sleep in peace.