The Silent Season Of Longing

In quiet shadows, softly cast,

I linger in a twilight vast,

Desiring warmth, a tender light,

A love to chase away the night.

My heart, a vessel overflowing,

With dreams of touch and words unending,

Yet silence echoes, cold and deep,

Where promises once dared to leap.

I watch the world in gentle sway,

The lovers’ laughter, bright as day,

Their hands entwined, their spirits soared,

While mine remains unseen, ignored.

Aching for what might have been,

A symphony of “could” and “might,” within,

A fire that flickers, faint but near,

Yearning for love’s elusive clear.

The days drift by in muted hues,

Each moment painted shades of blue,

Seeking a mirror to reflect me,

To find the love I long to see.

In solitude, I learn to wear,

A mask of hope, a silent prayer,

Yet underneath, a storm resides,

A tempest of unspoken tides.

I dream of touches, gentle and kind,

Of voices whispering, "You’re mine,"

But wake to emptiness, a hollow ache,

A longing only my heart can take.

Why does love hide in distant skies?

Why do I see it in others’ eyes,

But it’s a ghost, so far away,

A fleeting muse that cannot stay?

Perhaps it’s patience, gentle and slow,

Or lessons only time can show,

That love’s not something we command,

But something shaped by unseen hand.

Still, I hold on to fragile hope,

Clinging tightly, learning to cope,

For within this yearning deep,

Lies a strength that dares to leap.

One day, perhaps, the stars will align,

And love will find this soul of mine,

Until then, I’ll softly wait,

For love’s return—perhaps too late.

Yet in this quiet, endless plea,

There’s growth, resilience, mystery,

For even in the ache of desire,

Burns a spark that won’t expire.

To yearn is human, raw, profound,

A sacred longing, unbound,

And though I stand here, unfulfilled,

My spirit’s flame is not yet stilled.