Night Crickets

NIGHT CRICKETS

The house stands silent, a tomb of memories deep,
Where laughter once resounded, now only echoes remain,
The secrets it holds tightly, the promises it will keep,
As shadows lengthen slowly, sorrow starts to reign.

The house is dark now, yet the porch still glows,
The bug snapper flickers, casting a gentle light,
Where once your laughter danced with evening’s close,
Now crickets sing in the silence of the night.

Your chair stands empty, but the memories are there,
Their echoes float and linger like a wistful sigh.
I lounged in silence, my heart full of despair,
With every tick of time, for you I cry.

In grief, I trace the lines of what I’ve lost,
As twilight deepens with each passing day.
Yet though you’ve flown at such a heavy cost,
Our love remains a tether, come what may.

The porch was a beacon against the encroaching night,
A fragile, hopeful glimmer amidst the somber air,
Where once you sat and pondered beneath the moonlight,
A vacant space now haunted by visions of despair.

The crickets continue to mourn with a song of bliss,
A chorus of lamenting to pierce my grieving heart,
Each chirping note a reminder of all that I now miss,
A constant, aching echo that tears my world apart.

Oh, angel of kindness, from my heart torn away,
The absence of your presence, a void that will not mend,
Your smile, like the dawn, turned my night into day,
A yearning for your comfort that knows no earthly end.

I mourn a soul heaven gained, so quickly snatched away,
A star extinguished early from this terrestrial sphere.
I grapple with the questions and struggle to find a way,
To reconcile such sorrow, to conquer this crushing fear.

The house is dark, the future bleak, devoid of your light,
The crickets’ song is a dirge that lingers on the breeze.
I mourn your loss, your memory burns ever so bright,
My broken heart carries on, but I can’t find inner peace.

Yet, here I remain on the porch, as darkness expands,
To cherish the sweet memories, with a heart so blue;
Mourning with each heartbeat and with trembling hands,
The crickets and I are still crying, still longing for you.

©Habib Dabajeh