Silken dusk hums,
its melody tangled in the cicadas’ hymn—
a chant, a prayer
of wanting,
of aching.
Oh, how my body keens,
haunted by the ghost of your absence.

Eyelids falter, heavy with twilight’s weight,
as the heavens spill pink and orange tears
into the horizon’s waiting arms.

I trace your name
on the trembling canvas of the stream.
Its ripples carry whispers of daydreams,
each one...