Night

The periwinkle petals closed As daylight turned to dark-- And nighttime fell like dampened silk, To hush the meadowlark. While the Talmud--and the holy words; The violins, and song-- Fell silent in the midst of dark Seeming out-of-place, or wrong. And faith became a memory, Like love's first gentle kiss-- The most dear of all possessions Was the one most sorely missed. For God had been the guiding light, So the rituals, and wine-- But the Cantor was bereft of song... T was the night of '39.