. Sketchbook  Sijo

 

John Daleiden, US Where Love Has Gone Autumn leaves turn in the wind, bright colors blow across the green. Days grow short, since our long good-by, I miss your kiss, your tender hand. My darling, shadows fill the room, I wait by your empty chair. Your perfume scents silent rooms where your bright laugh and smile once rang. Nights grow long with thoughts of you when autumn leaves begin to fall. In moon-light your brown eyes appear, a thousand stars in the sky.       The Source Lady muse tempts me with charms— a sweet fragrance, a river view. In moments unexpected, she paints magic scenes with allure. At her wink, the bright fictive realm, sings like angles at vespers.     Where Have You Gone My Pretty One Not one song stirs the silence— your empty nest lined with old mud. No fledglings chirp and sing songs with your gusto, persistent bird. Where is your sweet, familiar voice awakening at desert dawn? An old man with a tin cup scatters his crumbs beneath the trees; only ants creep along the path— in the morning sun there’s no song. Return, brown bird, restore sweetness by the still, empty garden seat.

 

 

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