Lost you to the gathering night,
where the moon forgets to rise;
your name dissolves in silent tide,
a ghost of blue beneath my eyes.
Streetlights hum like distant choirs,
frost etches prayers on windowglass;
I breathe the smoke of expired hours,
watching the stars retrace your path.
If dawn should ransom every shade,
I’d still trade its gold for one more minute—
your silhouette against the fading flame,
before the dark declared you finished.