how often have I sat out here
wishing you were with me?
watching the sun drifting slowly to sleep
and my tea growing cold?

A flock of sparrows flies;
a light breeze and the moon smiles
in empathy.
she would comfort me,
but she's also separated from her love.
how many light-seconds of silence?
a warm breeze and the soft carress
of sunlight on the tress.

The moon dances slowly
as the light of day disappears;
the sun has soon been banished
and the purple flowers wilt and die.
a single cricket celebrates,
singing louder than a choir of angels
and more sweetly.

08/19/2002

Posted on 08/19/2002
Copyright © 2025 Gary Hoffmann