Reminiscent

desire to recover lost hope

There was trust,
when you stood at the open window
and spied the star that waited for you,
a violin that gave itself to your hearing,
there for your solitary heart to achieve,
the message that formed itself
naturally out of the string of notes.

There was hope,
when you discovered the hidden path,
to lie among blades, stems and petals,
face to face with a billion of blazing lights,
the vast distance filled to the brim and
overflowing with an urgency
that made it all the more near.

Listen my heart and remember,
not distraught by expectation but content
in this gently disenchanting night.

Is it easier for lovers?