the sun is waving

alone on a bed but not
quite lonely,
the rays of a sun blink at me slowly,
and fade behind gray clouds.
they peak out again and again,
to find me still here
sitting.
cars race below and
they don’t know I’m up here,
and the puppy —
she sees me when she sees me,
but not before.
surprised I can stay in one place,
and mourn that I haven’t really lived.
it is a sad thing to do
when the sun is always
smiling,
and always happy
to say hello.