Between the cedars and the stars (Marcella Boccia)
I have counted the years in falling leaves,
each one a whisper of your name,
scattered by winds that do not know
the weight of longing, the ache of distance.
The moon still carves your silhouette in the dark,
a quiet ghost against the sky,
and though the river has forgotten our steps,
I still hear your laughter in its tide.
Oh, my love, my vanished dawn,
the mountains have held their breath for you,
and I, a lonely pilgrim of memory,
trace your absence in the dust of time.
Do you still walk among the cedars,
where our shadows once entwined?
Do your hands still weave the night
with stories only silence can tell?
Years have turned to mist between us,
yet I wake with your name on my lips,
a prayer, a wound, a fragment of light
waiting to be whole again.
