The street is deserted: you said you would be here, in front of the old gate, but there’s no one.
Blind windows look down at me in the deepening obscurity of the dying day: I recall the laughter, the chatter of young voices after school, I recall your half open lips, ready for the kiss, the bubble of time surrounding us.
It was then, now is darkness, and I know time lost is gone: those young voices muted in the silence of eternity.
Yet I stand still, and hope, memories of you submerging my soul, slowly drowning in the shimmering silhouette that has appeared, just there, at the edge of this tormented mind.
There you are, at last, haunting beauty of my lost love, shrouded in tears, mistress of the night.