To be old in a corner is not so bad,
It's quiet and I sleep when I want to.
My angle is perfect.
I can hear the dry leaves falling and blowing around over my head.
It's almost cold, but I don't mind, I have a thin coat.
My head is empty in a crisp, autumn kind of way and I brought some things
to hold in my hand.
I could turn my head to see them but I don't need to ,
I remember every color and they talk of the place they were before here.
Being forgotten is underrated. Love has no nourishment.