I am alone, simply alone
a cuckoo perched upon a brittle laburnum branch.
I sing,
for all,
but no one sings for me.

I vow to dwell in the shadows,
yet a fleeting dream, woven by duck-vine,
binds me.
I cannot move.
A breath escapes from a shadow
that is not mine
my soul, a fugitive.

I cannot reach the end of love.
She stopped, gentle,
before death could claim her.
I paused,
and love, as sweet as the air between us,
blended with the moment.
Emotions stretch forever,
innocence in adoration,
without end.