A lonely sigh up to the moon
A broken heart an empty room
A heaving breast that goes untouched
A velvet thigh no lovers blush
No lips to part
No gentle kiss

the softest tears no one will miss
No skin to stroke or hand to hold
No meeting story to be told

The night has gone the daytime hours,
are not so cold with sun and flowers,
but night time comes around too soon.
Another sigh up to the moon.

 

Sandra Reynolds

Sandra Reynolds

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Sandra earned her B.A. in English. She works part-time as a freelance writer and proofreader. Sandra was born in Massachusetts and currently resides in NYC with her fiance and their adorable pug.
Sandra Reynolds