The winters sun stretches its long fingers,
lighting the edges of the world,
but you walk untouched,
a shadow I can never embrace.

Often I speak your name in the quiet
where no echoes return,
only the hollow ache of air
that once hoped to hold a voice.

Your smile is a fleeting bird,
perched on a branch too high,
its song is a melody meant for   another.
I, I  am the earth beneath,
silent, steady, unnoticed.

I build bridges in my mind,
reaching toward your horizon,
but they crumble with each step,
leaving me stranded in my own longings.

Love, I have learned,
is not always a two-way river;
sometimes it is a flood
drowning one while the other
stands dry, staring at the distant tide.

Still, I carry the weight of you,
not in bitterness, but in the quiet truth
that hearts do not always meet.
Why, even the moon has nights
when it waits unseen,
faithful only to its endless orbit.