By Luis G. Dato
She felt alone
In that garden unfrequented,
Where the winds make moan
For blossoms sweetly scented,
Perfumed but far away.
And as the sunset died,
Lost the last long twilight ray,
She felt so lone and cried.
Her face protesting revealed
The trace of promises and prayers unreturned,
Deep disillusions learned,
Sorrows silence-sealed.
And as she wept
Like a lost child
When the shadow of twilight crept
On the forest wild,
Not knowing the ground,
As tears and tear-drops falling,
Moistened the cheek of the night around,
I called, she heard me calling,
And longer cried in that garden frequented only
By her spirit loving and lonely.
