Afternoon Scribble

O my great love!
Twinkling like those immortal stars,
hung low and beyond the horizon,
why don't you yield to my call?
Ah my heart breaks and this numbness grows
like a dissident tumble-weed,
devouring me while I wait, and how I wait for you;
I hear myself growing roots,
holding the soil between my toes,
becoming a tree under your eternal flicker.