Soon this will become another poem,
Sooner rather than later, I will love another.
Safe in the knowledge that it won’t matter,
Sunday I’ll turn all this into a poem.
Stargazing never felt this lazy.
Sitting as I write the end of this poem, I know
Stargazing never felt this outstandingly lazy and that the
Snake has slithered from Eden to me.
Safe in the knowledge that the end is real already
Sunday will be the end of you and the
Stories you provoked, the rhymes you evoked.
Saturday I won’t sit and write, I better go
Star gaze a while, while I still can.
Sailing in the safety of laziness, the
Snake will shed and someone will shave the sheep
Stars will come from the south and I will gaze
But the heart like the snake must go on always.
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