Tune of the nightingale
Lyricism illuminated as you lumbered,
it was in your locks beneath lamplight,
a lilting ambulation, a melody elongated.
With a veil of longing, filling
in the solitude of a bramble
a chill, snow fell. Flawless
I thought, I of the nightingale
listened to the melancholy loneliness
with a wistful smile, a soul’s duel.
Knowledge of my own inabilities
of love’s deliberations. Liberation
flew on philosophy, to be or not
or not echoed blindly in the flurry.
Recollections nestled in a swirling trail.