The window was open and the soft voice
of a piano went releasing among the trees
dreams not yet awakened by morning with
the enchanting tunes of it’s tender melody,
an early bird perched high was listening
forced by the piano enchantment to sing,
a-cappella chorus in the very background
with the murmur of dried autumn leaves,
as I walked through the thoughts penumbra
hoping she will come having a light for me.

Went more and more far way into the forest,
the music transformed in a whispering beam
followed, until deaf thorn bushes with claws
shredded every tone alive with angry jealousy
leaving only the unwelcoming void of silence
disturbed only by dry leaves under my feet;
and as I reached our white stone by the lake
that you were not there…I sadly could see,
had illusions, expectations, warm lonely arms,
and my heart kind of stopped its happy beat.

Time has come and gone, the lake frozen,
winter couldn’t wait anymore, it just did,
pushing the rest of rusting days of autumn
covering our white stone with its melancholy
as you never arrived to our most secret place
where you and me together should have been
with your red head leaning on my shoulder
and your lips just brushing by my cold lips
to give that affectionate lover’s welcome
that’s so worthy of expecting eons for it.

Returning everyday, that window is closed,
the piano is now mute and music absentee,
leading path to our stone devoured by snow
the gray skies like a shroud over all of me
as I deplorably ask, “where are you my love?”
now that even the little birds stopped to sing
and the forest shadows make the light so dimly
that the contours of your beautiful face can’t lit;
where are you my love? I have become blind and
even if you were here, you my love, couldn’t see.