The dusk has set in her eyes
Before the Nightingale sings
The melancholic melody of
Madness.

I hear it like a lullaby, she hears
It as our last goodbye, as if the
First rain in February is the
Last rain of May.

Nothing in this nothingness
Invades my soul, not unlike
The likehood of a candle left
In the rain.

Nothing reigns in my mind
Like a childhood remembered
With pain.