Deserted and desperate, now I cry,
Gazing at the full-white on the East sky.
Waning and waxing by the days
Stealing the glow from the sun's rays.
Covered by dark clouds, unable to peek,
Like the future that I am unable to seek.
I try to coax out melancholies,
From the fiddle that once yielded melodies.
The birds return to their cosy houses,
To feed their young ones' hungry noses.
But my heart cracks right through the middle,
Without a company for my fiddle.
Longing for his return I sing a sad song,
On this full moon night, bright and so long...
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Wings Of Light
PoezieWe don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to susta...