Go ahead, stare
You are rude.
Even the wind goes
Round about through woods
And will not disturb
This quiet hour
When I lie awake
And dream of us.
I can taste your tears
On the wind some nights,
But not now in this still room.
The pale moon
Illumines a field of clouds
And owls are haunting
A distant hill
Their calls soft
As April rain,
And coyotes
Absent from the fields again.
No, the theme tonight
Is silence and peace,
No waterfall roar
Of wind in trees;
Only the moon
In bright night clouds...
And your pale ghost
Haunting my thoughts.
