The Dirge of the Day

Ashes of burnt hay,
Haunting my daunting day,
Ashes of faces, ashes of words,
With nothing now left to say.

Mazes that do bind,
Faces that remain behind,
Thoughts that just come and go by,
And to me, none too kind.

Promises whispered in my ears
Hopes they sparked for years
They'd stay no matter what
And kept at bay my fears

The laughter on those lips I'd heard
Now have left home like a bird
I sit watching the moon at nights
Hoping for the home, with the bird I'd heard.

Nights pass, as do the skies
Not a single bird, does sing now, that flies
I still wait and listen for sounds
But can only hear the night as it dies.