The View

Outside my window the world seems the same,
it doesn’t reflect what inside me has gone wrong,
sitting and waiting at twilight
when I last saw her,
looking for a message of rekindled fire
in reply to the ones I’ve sent
that never comes no matter how often I write.
Just wanting to see that envelope arrive
marked by her handwriting,
bringing some new breath of hope my despair,
over how she’ll come back,
constantly remembering the night she went away,
each day spent asking the same question
how long can I hold on and live
without a chance to touch her hand
or feel the joy from seeing her smile?

The scar upon my mind
from watching
as the wilted flower of our love
appeared in her eyes,
it still brings the pain to my thoughts,
over how we felt destiny
had sealed our lives as one,
forever,
words failing in the growing distance
to undo the gulf in our longing.

But now my soul lingers in the ebbing light
ever praying my last song of impassioned plea
written from my ink well of sorrow,
that it will sing its melody into her heart
and be a serenade that returns her to me,
ever gazing for that precious view
of her appearing again on the walkway
where I lost the goddess
I thought would always be mine.