In the quiet hours of the night,
A longing stirs, an urge takes flight.
To talk, to share, to simply be,
With someone who sets the heart free.
A yearning for that whispered word,
To know that one’s voice will be heard.
In seeking love, we often find,
Illusions crafted in the mind.
The tempting call, a siren’s song,
We chase the feeling all along.
Yet, in this quest, we often see,
How we deceive with false esprit.
For love, a guise we can’t define,
A yearning that’s both yours and mine.
We fool ourselves, as oft we do,
In seeking love yet feeling blue.
By Leo Miuni Pandithage
