Lento e dolce — in the hush between sigh and star.
A melody drifts, candle-pale, through the air of dreams;
notes like moths, fluttering near the heart’s flame.
Each phrase—half prayer, half memory—
folds into itself as twilight folds the sea.
No storm, no grandeur—only tenderness,
that trembling grace where silence breathes.
And when the final chord dissolves,
it leaves behind a single echo—
a heartbeat whispered to eternity.
:: 11.09.2025 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 