The Nightingale's Song at Midnight and the Morning Rain - Miro
I swap my eyes
for that of the bird
trying to see
things I should have heard
daybreak is cluttered
when I've lost all my sleep
important things pile
all up in a heap
but I'll trace a line
with the tip of my finger
find the place where your song
has the good grace to linger
I find it in tails
or in tales of mirth
exploring these notes
seems to help my self worth
the edges are sheared
sound becomes mute
these are the gaps
where I start to dispute
did I just listen
to beautiful sound
as all seems empty
when I look around
lines are traced
yet they all end
just a fingertip mapping
the missing voice of a friend
I listen, I look
I reach out with my hand
saddened your tune
can't return on demand
realisation occurs
with a bump and a start
I didn't call out
I just asked with my heart
no-one can hear me
as I silently pray
that I'll still hear your song
at the start of each day
I'll let all notes mingle
let rain fuse with sound
step outside to get drenched
and just lay on the ground
stare up to the sky
as stars stare back at me
it's my own voice at fault
I need not be lonely
if lines overlay
it's stars we're creating
I'm not all alone
the scrawls just needed translating
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