The cobbled street
No more will I hear your tapping heel
ring across the rain glaze cobbled street
and not alone do I this loss of sound feel
without which I know we cannot meet.
The wind is begged by the waiting trees
to bend their branches gently down
so the leaves may catch on the breeze
your arrival from the town.
No more will I see your shadow first
stretching before you, eager for me,
and so I must be a lover cursed
clenching tight a spare door key.
The Owl you watched on his place
until past midnight when he flew,
has also left, his bough an empty space.
He was also watching you.
The rain glaze cobbled street is now hushed
but still watched by a heart now crushed.