Friday, November 16, 2007


I have written songs of love,
knowing none would hear;
I have counted stars above
as each would appear.
Counted each of Summer’s stars,
wished on every one,
and the lights of passing cars
racing toward the sun.

Toward a dawn that lies obscured
I too travel soon,
waiting only on the word
of my mistress moon.
Now arrayed in all her light,
she will be obeyed,
for I know this velvet night,
with her voice, must fade.

Call me by another name;
will you still know me?
I can never be the same
once I am set free.
I have sung my songs for you
as you walked away;
I have told the stars of you
as they fled the day.

Stephen Brooke ©2007

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