Little lost squirrel
Hanging between
Two trees and not
Quite sure where to
Put your feet
Gently on a bed of
Dry safety grass
Of a small hope cushion
Made of tenderness leaves
Now just fragile dream For next summer
Let me be your branch
Until you find your way
My twigs will refuge your hopes
Hold whatever your feelings weigh
I am motionless for you
Even if you don’t decide to stay here
To F., Happy Birthday
