by Elisabeth Nakou
Artwork, “Tundra” by Julia Sorensen
As the night casts its veil
and pins the stars up in the sky,
the silence of the nightingale
is echoing your goodbye.
Tears are shed from up above
as clouds are softly weeping,
my heartbeat is a mourning dove,
it keeps the world from sleeping.
At your door I cast a glance
with no hope to be near you,
no hope for even one more chance
and still, I’m here to hear you.
