I just want to sit above the group watching perched from the stretched out arm of a tree, drying out with the embers that dance around me. If only they were shooting stars, and hoping hard enough made wishes come true, then I could climb down and sit among the rest of you. I wish I could be contented to sit beside the sea, but I am also peaceful hugged by the long cold arms of the willowing oak tree. I look up to the rustling leaves above and know that somewhere the moon pulls the tide to my ear, and although I cannot see and stars the sparks of fire drift near. I can hear the soft voices of those who are happier than I am, and just listening to their whispers makes me feel like I can belong there too, nearby a porch, in a dream, somewhere by the sea, with people who are a little like me.
