Like a fragile hope’s whisper,
from a butterfly’s fleeting kiss,
a golden shroud enfolds my heart,
while the nightingale slumbers on,
beneath the candor of lilies in twilight’s grasp.
Ambergris and the yearnings of innocence,
Pathways entwined in whispered waltzes,
Horizons touched by tearful dew,
Can you feel the warmth within your breast?
Oh, night’s lament! Blue depths of starry gloom!
Your ethereal wing brushes our weary brows,
Life wanes, and we drift away,
In the tender, pale embrace of dying roses.
:: April 20th, 2024 ::
