--birdsongs-

this night's too black
for ink to be written
about you.

let me sit up late
by the window,
till the dark has ebbed;
mixed with the purple
hope of dawn.

that'd be the best
time to remember you:
in powerless surrender
to sleep that the yearnings
shall break out of my chest,
like birdsongs trailing skyward,
for the lost to know
it's day.

- Sobhan