Untitled
On nights like tonight,
when the moon is liquid mercury
and the stars fall like broken glass,
I can almost feel his voice,
taste his whisper once again.
On nights like tonight,
when the stars whisper
in the darkening sky
and the moon breathes
in summer tides,
I can almost remember
when he stood above me,
his silhouette against the sky
and his voice drifted down
to touch my hearing.
On nights like tonight,
when the winds exhale songs
of summers, long forgotten
and the symphony of nightfall
begins its final prelude,
when darkness turns to dawn,
only I can hear his
whisper on the sunrise.
