Nowhere to Fly

Nowhere to Fly

 

(Last Days in New York)

 

The evening air is cold tonight;

A frost lies on the grass,

 

A gibbous moon

Peeps on the path,

As my slow footsteps pass

 

A true farewell is kept within,

As leaving is a mix of wounded words

And broken bonds arriving cannot fix

 

A dog is barking in the woods;

The stars are small and gray,

And though they shine,

They seem to shrink,

 

And would no longer stay.

 

A thrush is clinging to a reed;

She has nowhere to fly,

And I am turning

From her gaze -

 

I cannot say goodbye.

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