An Evening By The Seashore
The water is dark and silent, reflecting sparks of the night’s fire
that bedeck a window of sky.
Your voice tonight does not thrill me at all, poet wind.
Are you merely playing upon my heartstrings to bring out joyful noise?
I thought a lingering by this margin of silence would light a star of expectations,
why does this dawn of dusk show up only swarms of loathsome ghosts.
Will you perhaps open a flower, night, to touch me with the morning’s infant fingers?
My heart is stretched across your shroud of starry silence for you, O night, my lover.