the need for common warmth can strike at will,
can force the body into others' arms:
ignoring your safety, even seeking harm,
affection gives a chance to get your fill.
you roam when empty, stealing bits and crumbs,
surviving on the need to walk and run
since on these days you always blame the sun
and glare with rays that keep the daylight glum.
you seek the girl who saves a place for you,
who pines and hopes and wilts without your light:
she cannot last another hour, the night
will steal the faithless face who can't stay true.
an orange moon rises, finds your lovely form
stretched out as cold as dead— and keeps you warm.