It hovers in the nighttime air,
As if it’s trapped ‘tween here and there.
What was its source, where will it go?
I think by dawn we’ll surely know.
Sail on sweet song as yet unheard,
No sound at all, no spoken word.
Where shall you land if ere you do,
What is your final rendezvous?
Perhaps you simply fade away,
Perhaps there’s nothing more to say,
Perhaps what was we’ll never see,
Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.







18 old applause
