The Lost Song

I spend my days drinking pots of coffee in my house in the forest
Trying to hear the music through the falling branches of desiccated trees.
In the night, the pitter-patter of field mice drown out the sound of you.
And so, I must find ways to convince myself that I am only dreaming.

I step outside onto the frosted grass
As the notes play on like a leur cast out to sea.
Suddenly, my stride is a smooth waltz.
Suddenly, the wonder of whether I am dreaming dissipates.
Suddenly,
I am with you.

Under the snowfall
You reveal to me why the notes blend like melted chocolate.
How the ground no longer feels so bitter.
Why I no longer recognize the forest I once knew so well.

Spinning under the silver moon to the melody of Your unforgettable symphony,
You have allowed me to see you like I had many years ago.
You are invisible, yet iridescent
Only being seen when undeniably heard.
A perfect angel
Leading me to the song of myself.