Tonight the worlds breathe slowly, sinking low,
and in the cold of darkening stars unfold.
Tonight, if bough should think only of root,
and water of rude leaves, two flowers unfold:
tonight, the stars are close and in repose.
Caress them. Touch them as their heavens unfold.
Tonight there is one single bird in flight.
If loneliness is light, hear its song unfold.
Tonight the wind is music in berceuse;
and how few are the windows that unfold.
Tonight all laws are broken. Sadness calls,
writes on a carpet poetry unretold.
Tonight if I should think of only you
let me be like the world that winds unfold
to slight the day and blossom into all
you ever wished these lilies could enfold.
Tonight the sky is patchwork melancholy.
A sparrow cries. Allow me to unfold.