•When the trees acquiver,
With a hope so new,
I let my heart loose,
In the thoughts of you.

Soon the night falls,
And so does the rain,
Pattering on silent minds,
Dropping like pain.

The world is a poet,
Only, without ink,
Watching the midnight hearts,
Break in a brink.

And on such nights when,
Love mingles, mindless, with your bones,
Remember that even the bird which flies,
Turns towards home.•
~*~
6:05 p.m.