Buried Love
At midnight, where the August moonrise glows,
A giant star in silence throws
its silver threads upon the deep,
where restless waves at sea still weep.
Down Broadway, laughter spills and sways,
soft bells ring out through neon haze.
Yet in the dark, one truth remains—
buried love still immures in chains.
By the sea, where echoes call,
I hear the past but not at all.
For love is trade, a harsh barter,
some shine bright, while others falter.
The tide will turn, the winds will shift,
but not for me—but not to me.
Like fragile bloom—blue squills in spring,
some loves take root, yet never cling.
And so beneath the midnight star,
I walk alone, from near to far,
not lost, not found, just meant to be,
adrift like waves upon the sea.
WoPoLi 
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