Unwritten

I know someone weeps within this house.

I have often felt her silent cry

In careless moments as I wandered by.

She has haunted me at happy times

Like a vague morning dream.



I hear her sigh on evening walks

As I search for my fairyland,

I hear her whisper with the wind

The magic words she writes on sand.



She follows me on lonely roads.

I hear her singing in the rain.

But still I know not how she looks,

The story of her secret pain.



Meeting an old friend at the street

The other day, I stopped to talk.

We stopped there long and laughed and talked

Till I was on my own again.

And then I felt her watching me,

I felt her anguished tears as mine,

But when I turned around to see



Her shadow had slipped past from behind.

What is the sorrow that makes her cry?

What is the tale that she can’t tell?

Why stays she lonely in that house?

I knock the door but no reply.