Come to Me


In the night she thought she heard him,
a drawn out cry, the voice echoed
in her head called her name.
Asking for help or simply shouting,
shouting for her to come to him.
Unheard for such a long time. She knew
it wasn't him, how could it be?
And yet the feeling he was near
so strong to make her slip
from her bed and stand
by the window, listening.
Inside the house slept, each person
wrapped in their own warmth.
Outside clear and silent dark,
white-pricked stars in the sky
a low moon tangled in the trees.
She pressed her forehead
against the glass and waited,
but it didn't come again.
It would never come again.

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byUnderYourSpell© 8 comments/ 1908 views/ 0 favorites

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