Nightingale

So lovely and fair ;

I would paint you
With words

But you wash
The canvas black
With your dark hair.

You spoiled
My perfect record
Of loneliness,
Now there’s nowhere
To hide,

I flee inside
To my heart’s empty places,

my heart transparent,
helpless as a dove.

I would cherish you

But I am too frightened
To sing your praises
Or name my love.