What eyes no longer see
all blurred and vaguely white
across the still unhearing night
the shape of sighs for me.

Hear music for some time
resolve the brawls of rhyme
that chord within my head
sweet as moonlight, shine
illuminates the line
making words unsaid.

So silent is the windstill air
now mute the singing sky
then let me pluck one star, one name
echo this sweet song, let me proclaim
not I, my friend, not I.


Marjon van Bruggen
31-7-20