Smoothe cedars by the lake make violins
In shadows and sleek frogs thump double bass.
You slow your evening walk to hear begin
A symphony of lonliness and loss.
Not many nights ago she held your hand.
Dusk was different then when all you heard
Were happy wind and whippoorwills. The band
Now plays a mournful song. Without a word
You syncopate the song with heavy steps
Outwalking any sound till every din
Save one is gone: that din down in the depths
Of all it means to hold no hand again.
The music of your walk is not the same
For only stillness answers to her name.