Girl Looking Out The Window

This fragile, quiet, pristine, cloudless night
Would be my voice be better not disturbed.
So rare it is to see the moon’s pale light,
It would be best to gaze, unseen, unheard.

But I am filled with terror, filled with fright,
For what I know tomorrow is to come.
It is the eve of my dread wedding night,
And so to my confessor, friend, have run.

He sits above, illuminates the sky,
The only smiling face that I have known.
But as the clouds his glowing presence hide,
The night grows dark and I am left alone.

I stand, and with my tears, begin to mourn.
I wait the creeping coming of the dawn.

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