Waiting For The Sun Poem by nathan martin

fortunatly we are caffienated so we can adjust.

the antiquated stars have all shifted,
spinning slowly they change into thier fall dress.

i know now the stars are all moth-eatin.

lucky for us there is still time.


we are young but when we move
we rattle like antique lanterns.

the stars are antique lanterns
therefore we are stars.

yet none of us excape without consequence.

an opal iris overhead blinks and flickers.

we all wait for the sun.