As the wind holds its breath
and silence slyly waits in the wings,
A domical canopy of mist
shrouds the forlorn walkway
lighten by the solemn glow
of a solitary street lamp.
There was not a stir,
Neither the sigh of a whisper
Nor the phantom of a shadow
As if the day was held
on the cusp of the twilight.
An uneasy feeling permeates my being
A sense of foreboding sways my thoughts,
And a stretch of
melancholy landscape looms ahead.
From afar, yonder
Someone calls my name, it seems
I stand and wait
holding on to a hope
A love I longed for…
Alas, never seen.
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