Contended I sat beneath a shady tree. True, at the moment it only shaded me from the cool, pale rays of the moon, but for some reason I insisted upon calling it a shady tree and humming a children’s song to myself.

The day was done and spent, as was I, but I lingered there in my sweat soaked uniform to savor a purloined slice of week old pizza, haute culinary perfection to my taste at the time. Inside a brick building, a dirty hundred scurried this way and that to clean and prepare for bed.

That was well for them. I was well too.

The tune kept coming back, insistent but incomplete. The lyrics escaped me until long past when sleep found me.

“…if you want to close your eyes, and sleep beneath the tree, you can rest your head on me…”

I suppose the words mocked me from my subconscious, sitting there so alone and frankly poor company. Or perhaps deep down I knew you were under some other shady tree, one I might slumber beneath some day or pleasant eve.

I missed you.

I will find you once again